


Complicated Rules

by patchfire, raving_liberal



Series: Story of Three Boys [53]
Category: Glee
Genre: First Kiss, Gen, M/M, OT3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-09
Updated: 2012-04-19
Packaged: 2017-11-03 08:30:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 65,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/379376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchfire/pseuds/patchfire, https://archiveofourown.org/users/raving_liberal/pseuds/raving_liberal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Take-out and tartlets; Finn has a food tour guide; Rachel the humanitarian; Girls' night in; Don't let it get around that Miles is a good guy; Stealing kisses; Beiste conducts a series of very important interviews; Nobody gets enough sleep; Bolder than we thought; "His name is Puck"; apartment hunting and job hunting; guess who's eating the snails and the comfortable duck?; The White Ranger, the badass pilot, and the chick that looks like Shelby; Performances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Teaser

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back! 
> 
> This is a LONG one this week. Our episode is a two-parter and will be posted over two weeks, with all its various bonus fic.

Emma’s pleased to find dinner already on the table waiting for her when she arrives home after her meeting with the other Allen County guidance counselors. She’s even more pleased when she notices that it’s her favorite entree from Chili’s, which means Will hasn’t made another mess out of the kitchen. She appreciates the effort to share the cooking, but she actually appreciates a nicely plated take-out order even more. 

“Oh, Will! This looks wonderful!” Emma says, as she carefully folds her new spring-weight cardigan and sets it in her divided sweater drawer. “Thank you so much!”

“I thought you’d rather not try to cook after your conference this afternoon,” Will replies with a smile. “I picked up a bottle of your favorite white wine, too.”

“Goodness! What’s the special occasion?” Emma asks. Will pulls out her chair for her and she sits. “Excited about Nationals?”

“I am,” Will confides. “Though I’ll certainly miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too, but this is such an exciting opportunity for your kids. I really think they have a shot this year!”

“I do, too. I admit, I had my reservations about their approach, but watching them rehearse this past week, they’ve really come together so well. More professional than I think anyone would expect.”

“Well, they’ve had such a wonderful role-model over the past few years,” Emma says. “It’s good how you’ve let them come into their own these last few months.”

“It’s going to be so strange to have them all leave at the end of this school year!” Will says, and then he puts down his fork. “Oh, I left something in the kitchen. Can you go get the white bakery box?”

“Is it from the German bakery?” Emma asks, standing up and heading into the kitchen. 

“No, not this time,” Will says, somewhat sheepishly. 

Emma picks up the box and carries it in. “Is it cake or pie?”

“Oh, um, it’s a tart! Little tarts, I mean. Mini-tarts. What are those called again?”

“Tartlets?” Emma suggests.

“Yes!” Will says gratefully. “Tartlets, exactly. An assortment of them. Why don’t you open the box and pick one out?”

Emma has learned to read Will very well over their time together, and something in his tone   
makes her brace herself for what she might find inside the box. However, when she opens it, she sees a small black box nestled in between the tartlets, opened to display the ring inside.

“Oh, Will!” she says, putting her hand to her throat. “Is this…?”

Will seems like he’s having trouble being articulate, and he smiles hugely at her for a long moment before he says anything. “Do… do you like it?”

“Oh, Will!” she says again, plucking the ring from the box and sliding it onto her finger. “Of course I do!” 

“I thought – maybe something small? In a month or two?” Will says, voice full of hope. 

“I’ve always wanted to be a June bride. It’s so traditional!” Emma puts her arms around Will’s neck and smiles. 

 

Once they leave Curry Row, Allison has to stop and think about where to head next. Chinatown seems obvious, though, and they can practically do a progressive dinner within a block or two: the best soups, the best egg rolls, the best dumplings, the best fried rice, each at a different place. 

Finn’s enthusiastic without the babble of touristy questions that Allison’s almost come to expect whenever she acts as a guide around New York. She does learn a lot about Noah and Kurt, though, and about some roadtrip to the beach that the three of them are going to take over the summer. 

“Still want extra spicy, right?” Allison asks as they reach the edge of Chinatown. 

“Always!” Finn says. “Extra spicy, extra meat. That’s how Kurt always orders for me.”

Allison laughs. “All right.” She leads him towards one of the closer places, asking for two bowls of soup. “So where _are_ you headed in the fall? Staying close to home?”

Finn shakes his head. “Nope. University of Wisconsin.”

“Sounds cold.” Allison looks at him appraisingly. “You’ll have to make sure you don’t freeze to death in blizzards or something? Or is that North Dakota? I always got those Little House books mixed up.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna be in a dorm, so I’ll probably be ok.”

“I always wondered why they sold those mummy–style sleeping bags, though. I think those are for places like Wisconsin.” She laughs again. “I have to ask. Do you have to like, special-order things like that? To get them long enough?”

“Yeah, I’ll have a bed, I think. In my dorm. With, like, sheets and whatever.” Finn knits his brows and gives her a puzzled look. 

“Yes, but you know. In _general_.” Allison gestures to him with her spoon. “You’re so tall!”

“I just look for stuff that looks like it’s long enough, I guess?” Finn says, seeming confused about this line of questioning. “I mean, finding a suit was hard, but that’s why Kurt did it for me. I had to try them on or whatever, but he’s the one who went through the racks.”

Allison shrugs. “I suppose that helps. So. Egg rolls now?”

“Lead on, tour guide!” Finn says. “Egg rolls _always_!”

 

Rachel feels like beaming at everyone she passes, and mostly, she does. A few people return her smiles and one man even waves, but mostly the other walkers ignore her presence. She knows New York won't always ignore her, though, not Rachel Berry!

She's not quite sure where they are, though the streets look vaguely familiar from her February trip, and Artie is leading the way with directions, so she's not worried. The only thing that would make the day any better would be the three missing boys. She supposes Kurt and Noah have things to take care of though, since they can't live in a lovely dorm like Juilliard has. Poor Noah, even his school's dorms are no where near his classes! 

As for Finn, well, no doubt he's tagging along with them, which is too bad for Noah and Kurt really, but since they'll all be going their separate ways soon enough, she's sure they're understanding. It would be nice, though, to spend this beautiful day in the City with Finn. She'd thought that a reminder of their spring the year before would spark something in Finn. Even just a few more months, that's all she'd wanted. He couldn't expect her to do a long-distance relationship, and maybe that was why he'd ended it sooner, but she had so hoped that the Tuesday night in New York would be for the two of them again.

There's still a few hours yet, though; if he returns upset at the reminder that his brother and his best friend are leaving him, she can be there to pick up the pieces.


	2. Good Guys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't let it get around that Miles Brown is a good guy.

The polite thing to do would be to call and see if Rick really wants him to come over, but then, Miles has never been too concerned about polite. Besides, he’s less worried about upsetting Rick by showing up at his place than he is about upsetting Alicia by not going over to babysit her boyfriend while she’s at her Evil Cheerio Empire planning meeting. She got herself so worked up about what happened yesterday, and even though he’d never admit it out loud under pain of death, Miles can’t stand seeing her like that. 

Rick’s mom answers the door when Miles knocks, and her face looks sort of strained when she sees Miles standing there. 

“Hello, Miles,” Mrs. Rickenbacker says. “Your sister isn’t with you today?” 

That’s one of those things about Rick’s mom, that she won’t call Alicia by her name if she can avoid it. It’s always “your sister” and Miles wonders if it’s “your girlfriend” and “your friend” when she’s talking about them to Rick. Bothers Miles like just about nothing else, but there’s not much he can do about how Rick’s parents are. They’re always nice to both him and Alicia, and neither of them have ever said anything where Miles could hear it, but Miles isn’t dumb. He knows they’d probably be a lot happier if Rick had brought home somebody a little whiter instead of Alicia, which just goes to show their taste is questionable, because there’s no girl in any color that’s better than Alicia Brown. 

“No, ma’am,” Miles answers, flashing her the most charming grin he’s got in his arsenal, at least, the most charming non–panty–dropper grin. “She sent me over here to check on Rick and see how he’s feeling today.”

Mrs. Rickenbacker smiles, a little thin but genuine at least, and she waves Miles in. “He’s back in the den with the kids. I think they’re playing video games.”

Miles walks down the hall and Rick is, in fact, back in the den with video games flashing on the television, but only Jonah and Isaac seem to actually be playing Mario Kart. Rick has a controller in his lap, but his head’s lolled back and his eyes are glassy, his Luigi car keeps bouncing off the side wall, and little Abby’s sitting next to him clipping her Barbie’s hair clips into his hair. 

“Foots? You alive over there?”

Rick rolls his head in Miles’ direction and grins a great big old stoned smile. “Sure,” Rick says. “I’m not dead. Just concussed. They didn’t even knock the stupid back in.”

“So you told me last night,” Miles says, shaking his head at the ridiculous look on Rick’s face. “And so Alicia told me two or three times. She sent me over here because she was worried about you. Told her you’d be fine without her babysitting you, but she seemed to think you’d only survive until the end of her meeting if you were in the compassionate care of the Brown family.”

Rick smiles even wider. “Shoot, Brown. I got no idea what you just said to me.”

“That doctor give you some narcotics, Foots?”

“No, but she gave me some pills,” Rick says, nodding his head soberly. “Which is good, ’cause I think some of my ribs fell out or something.”

“Fell out?” Miles shakes his head at Rick, who still hasn’t seemed to notice that he’s got pink barrettes and a strip of bright purple fake hair all clipped onto to his head. “Now, I’m not a medical professional myself, but I’m pretty sure ribs can’t do that.”

“Well, that doctor lady said something about my ribs floating, at least, and I don’t feel them bumping into stuff in there,” Rick says. His pupils are wide and he’s blinking more than is probably necessary. “So I reckon, I reckon maybe they fell out.”

“Foots,” Miles sighs. “All I’m gonna says is, I hope the kids get Alicia’s brains _and_ her looks.”

“Yeah, Alicia’s real pretty.”

“She sure is,” Miles agrees.

“And her eyes are so nice.”

“Yes, she’s got very nice eyes, Foots. Gets ’em from our Ma.”

“She has real pretty lips, too.”

“Foots, we’re just gonna stop right here, on account of how I don’t want to have to beat the shit out of you while you’re still in recovery from the last guy who did that, alright?” Miles says, raising his eyebrow. “We’re done talking about Alicia right now.”

“I’m gonna marry her one day,” Rick sighs.

“I’m sure you are, Foots, right after you run for president and grow wings and learn how to fly, ’cause I’m thinking all of those sound about equally possible right now, don’t they?” Miles says.

“I don’t think I’m old enough to be the president, Brown,” Rick says, looking puzzled. “I think you have to be thirty or something.”

“Or something, Foots,” Miles agrees, though he’s not sure if Rick can hear him over the sound of Jonah screaming at Isaac for pressing the reset button on the Wii. “How about I bring you over to my house and we’ll wait there for Alicia, if your mom says it’s alright?”

Rick gives him a big sappy grin. “That’s real nice of you, Brown. You’re a good guy.”

“Don’t let it get around,” Miles said. “I’ve got enough damage control to do as it is, without people thinking I’m some kind of good guy.”


	3. Honorable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a time and a place to be honorable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [3x33 playlist track](http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL68EEF225AACFB47B)
> 
>  
> 
>  **Warnings:** Gardening, eating of chicken instead of beef, and excessive watching of BSG

“I can’t eat it,” Casey declares, after he’s attempted two bites and then nibbled at a third. “It tastes weird, the pasta is gritty, and I think there’s no actual cheese in this cheese.”

“Oh, I never really thought there was actual cheese in any of them,” David says, laughing. “Actual fake cheese, yes. Actual real cheese, no.”

“This doesn’t even have actual fake cheese, David. It has actual glue. I can’t even eat it in the name of science,” Casey says. “I tried. I really did. I just can’t even do it for science.”

“Well, Dad did say there was some cash if we wanted to order pizza,” David admits. “I guess I could call up one of the pizza places. If you’ll eat half of it.”

“Half?” Casey does his best to act shocked and horrified, like they haven’t had this exact conversation about three million times already. “Maybe, hmm. I think I could maybe eat a slice and a half.”

“At least three slices,” David counters. 

“Two,” Casey says, firmly. He even crosses his arms to show how serious he is about only two.

“Two if we get a Meat Eaters.”

“Fine, but you have to eat the sausage parts,” Casey says. “They’re weird and I don’t like them.”

David shrugs and reaches for the phone. “Sure.” 

After David places the order, and Casey finishes dumping out all the really weird mac 'n' cheese into the trashcan and putting the dishes into the dishwasher, they go sit down in the living room, because it’s more comfortable than the kitchen table. Also, the kitchen still really smells like that mac 'n' cheese. 

The sofa _is_ more comfortable, but Casey still can’t really _get_ comfortable. He sits up, then he leans over on the arm of the sofa, then he rolls over and rests his head on the arm of the sofa, then he rolls onto his side. 

“Hitting some bruises?” David asks, his voice almost too casual. 

“I think, um. The sofa just got lumpy since yesterday,” Casey answers. Everything is really starting to hurt, but he doesn’t want to _say_ that it hurts, because they’re going to have pizza and pleasant conversation, and he doesn’t want to ruin things by being whiny. “I just have to find a not lumpy spot.”

“Probably want to grab some more Advil when the pizza comes,” David nods. “Should help.”

“I don’t think it’ll help the sofa, but if you think it needs Advil, that’s between you and the sofa,” Casey says. “I think the cushions are uneven or something, maybe.” He turns around so his feet are on the arm of the sofa instead, with his body turned at a weird angle so his head is on the middle cushion. 

David laughs. “Advil for sofas, I like that. But no, for you. I don’t think we have any bruise cream so you’ll just have to make that work for you.”

Casey tries to turn to look at David, but with his feet propped on the sofa arm and his body twisted up, he just tips over and starts to rolls towards the floor. He arm flails out and he grabs ahold of David’s leg as a means of regaining his balance, then he realizes he’s got most of his arm wrapped around David’s leg, and lets go. 

“Sorry!”

“Careful,” David laughs. “Sure you didn’t try to have a beer instead of Advil, maybe?”

“No,” Casey says, feeling the heat creep into his face. “I mean, yes, I’m sure. I had milkshake instead of beer, remember? We decided on no beer. I just, um. I can’t get comfortable. Because of the sofa lumps.”

“Right.” David nods slowly. “Just the sofa.” He grabs one of the pillows against the arm of the sofa and brandishes it. “Extra pillow?”

“I think. Um. Oh, I think _you_ are my extra pillow!” Casey takes David’s arm and moves it so it’s against David’s side, then makes a show of pretending to fluff it. “There. See?” He settles back against David’s arm. “Better.”

“I wondered why I couldn’t carry as much lately,” David jokes. “I have a down–filled arm now.”

“You’re _very_ comfortable,” Casey says. “Not at all lumpy. Very nice, comfortable arm pillow.” He closes his eyes and lets himself relax a little. “Maybe a little bit of Advil for me, after we give some to the sofa?”

David must nod, because his body shifts just a little. “Yeah, that’s probably a good plan. For both of you.”

“We shouldn’t buy any more of the Annie’s stuff,” Casey says, his eyes still closed. He wiggles a little to burrow into the sofa cushion and David’s arm. “It’s all weird. Just, really weird. I think they have some kind of agenda.”

“There’s an agenda about rabbits?” David shrugs. “Okay. Sounds plausible.”

“And what do rabbits have to do with shells anyway?” Casey asks. He feels sleepy and like he maybe isn’t making too much sense, but he’s sort of comfortable, finally, and David’s arm is so warm and he smells so good. “Or cheese? And what do shells have to do with cheese?”

“I think we have Velveeta to blame for that one.”

“Yep. Stupid Velveeta.” 

Casey wakes up when the doorbell rings and that’s the only way he knows for sure that he fell asleep. It can’t have been that long, because it only ever takes forty-five minutes, tops, for the pizza to get there on a Friday. David must have held very still that whole time, though, and his arm’s probably going numb by now.

“Sorry,” Casey says, rubbing his eyes, which turns out to be a bad idea, because it’s the eye that hurts. He winces and makes a noise that he doesn’t mean to make. “Did your arm fall asleep?”

David shakes his head. “It’s fine. You want to eat in here, maybe watch an episode or two?”

Casey nods, and shifts himself off of David’s arm. “Yes. I think Fake Boomer isn’t really pregnant. I think she’s a liar robot.”

“I still want to know how a robot gets pregnant!” David calls back as he walks towards the front of the house. “Helo must know something we don’t.”

“I think Helo knows something we don’t about getting girls pregnant, just, real ones or robot ones,” Casey calls back. “And I’m fine with that!”

David snorts loudly but doesn’t respond as he opens the door and gets the pizza, bringing it back into the room along with two plates and a stack of napkins. “Yeah, I’m good with that, too.”

“Now I don’t know if I can eat,” Casey says. “I mean, who could eat, talking about stuff like that?”

David laughs. “Try to put it out of your mind.” He leaves again for a moment and returns with two pops and the Advil. “I think the sofa’s probably okay without a full dose.”

“It can probably take some later,” Casey agrees. 

“Here.” David drops two Advil in Casey’s hand and then puts the bottle to the side. “So we won’t forget the furniture.”

“Oh, I’d never forget that. I wouldn’t want the sofa to suffer.” Casey takes his Advil, as David opens the pizza box. They each grab a slice, Casey going for one of the smaller ones, and then the two of them pick at their pizzas until Casey’s plate has a pile of sausage and David’s has a pile of pepperoni. Casey holds his plate out in David’s direction. “Sausage.”

David picks up the pepperoni and puts it on Casey’s plate before moving the sausage pile onto his own plate. “Start the episode?”

Casey picks up the remote with his non–pizza–covered hand and turns on all the various electronics, then clicks to the next episode and starts it. While they get the recap of what happened in the previous episode, Casey picks up the pepperoni slices and eats them one at a time before he starts on his pizza. If Casey eats very slowly, David might not even notice if Casey only eats one slice. 

When Casey tries to put his plate down like he’s all done with it, though, David gives him a look.

“What?” Casey asks, make a point of not looking at his plate. 

“Get your other slice,” David says. 

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I ate two already.”

“Yeah, you didn’t. I’m completely sure of that.”

“I think maybe I did,” Casey says. “Are you sure-sure or just sort of sure?”

“One hundred percent. Also, you only gave me a pile of sausage once, so.”

“Well,” Casey says. “I guess one hundred percent is about as sure as you can be, but I see what this is. You just wanted my sausage. From my pizza. Ulterior motives.”

“That is definitely it,” David sighs, shaking his head very exaggeratedly. “So. Another piece, Case.”

“Sure.” Casey doesn’t try very hard to sound enthusiastic, but he holds his plate out anyway. Once the slice is on there, he picks the sausage off it and then holds it out to David again. “You better take your sausage before I change my mind about it and save it in a ziplock bag for later use.”

David laughs and scoops the sausage up, dumping it on his slice, which is probably slice number four or five. When the episode is over, Casey skips to the next one without even asking, because obviously it’s a two or three episode kind of night. Hopefully Miles won’t call again and interrupt the episode, because probably two times of being checked on is enough. He’s not even all that hurt or anything, except that tooth from before is all weird–feeling and loose again, and probably if he leaves it alone it’ll be normal again soon.

Paul comes home from his business dinner right around the time their third episode is ending and they’re debating whether or not they need to watch a fourth one, for, as Casey argues, a sense of balance. Paul greets them briefly and then goes right up to bed.

“So, one more?” Casey asks, after Paul is upstairs.

“We should sleep,” David says, shaking his head. “You should take another Advil or two, too.”

“I guess it really is a gateway drug,” Casey says. “I don’t think I need them right now, but I can take them up with me?”

David raises an eyebrow. “Why don’t we each get a pop and you can take them now.”

Casey huffs a loud breath out. “Okay. I can take them now, I guess. Then once I go to sleep, I won’t have to wake up to take them.” Because if there’s one thing Casey does when he goes to bed, it’s stay asleep. 

David stands up and walks into the kitchen, grabbing two cans of pop and opening both of them before sliding one towards Casey. “Nothing says a good night’s sleep like sugar and caffeine, right?” he jokes. 

“That’s why I always sleep so great,” Casey agrees. “If I ran out of sugar, I might, I don’t even know. It might be bad. I might forget where I am and just wander around bumping into things.” He takes a sip of his pop and then David holds out two Advil in his hand. Casey accepts the Advil, but he rolls his eyes to make a point. Unfortunately, that point seems to be that rolling his eyes when one of them is all bruised really hurts, so it turns from an eyeroll into a pained squint. 

“You do seem to be powered by glucose,” David agrees, draining the rest of his own pop. 

“We’re all powered by glucose. If you don’t have glucose, you die.” Casey takes a big sip from his can. “See? I just have excellent survival instincts. I’ll do well if there’s an apocalypse.”

“You’ll do well if there’s an apocalypse because you’ve prepared with all those movies,” David says as he tosses his can in the recycle bin. 

“Do you think there’s any place in Lima where we could get a flamethrower?” Casey asks, as he finishes his can and sets it in the bin. “We should also buy one of those water purifier things off the internet. Just in case. You might need one for Atlanta, from what I’ve seen on TV.”

“Wal-Mart. I bet they have both of those at Wal-Mart,” David says as they walk up the stairs. “And I’m pretty sure that the stores in downtown Atlanta aren’t _actually_ populated with zombies. Otherwise junior year’s going to have been better prep for college football than I would have imagined.”

“It never hurts to be prepared. If I were a zombie, I’d probably want to live in Atlanta.” Casey shrugs. “Goodnight, David. I’ll see you tomorrow after I sell all of the coffee in all of Lima!”

“I’ll come by early and you can see if your boss’ll let you go early, so you can see Dr. Jones before his Saturday hours end,” David replies firmly. 

“Only if you think he’ll go along with my cyanide tooth idea,” Casey counters. He grins at David and goes into his room to get ready for bed. He puts on his pajamas and then goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth, before going back to his room and climbing into bed. He double-checks the alarm on his phone and then mentally promises himself that he’s staying in his own bed tonight, for real this time, not because he actually thinks he’ll keep that promise, but just because that’s what he does at bedtime now. Maybe this time he’ll sleep all night, though. It was a pretty long and exciting day, and he’s really tired. 

Sleep doesn’t really work out like he planned, though, and Casey’s sure he hasn’t slept for that long before whatever he’s dreaming has him awake, tangled up in his sheet, his heart pounding. It takes a minute or two for him to calm down enough to remember where he is, even though he forgets his dream right away. The house is quiet, like it always is, and he picks up his phone before he quietly crosses the hallway to David’s bedroom. He sets the phone on David’s nightstand before he climbs into David’s bed, not even pretending he’s not going to just curl right up with David and hope his heart goes back to normal so he can actually get some sleep before he has to wake up again for work.

David stays asleep but shifts towards Casey, his breathing still deep and slow. It’s calming and peaceful, and Casey’s heartbeat slows down to something like normal. Everything else in the world is crazy and broken and unpredictable, but here with David, it’s safe and good. Casey moves closer to David, his body pressed against David’s arm, and even though it seems like a weird thing to do, maybe not even a very right thing to do, Casey leans up a little and kisses David on the corner of his mouth.

“I love you, David,” he says quietly, then he curls up around David’s arm and lets himself fall asleep again. 

 

“Well,” Casey announces, “Dr. Jones said no to the cyanide capsule.”

“I’m unsurprised, somehow,” Dave laughs. “Especially since you’re unlikely to be captured in enemy territories.”

“That’s making some pretty big assumptions, David,” Casey huffs. “I might go to enemy territories. I haven’t decided what I’m doing after college yet.”

“You’re memorable, though. Spies can’t be memorable, I don’t think.” Dave frowns. “Though spy movies may not be the best source of information.”

“I’m not that memorable.”

“I beg to differ.” Dave grins. “Where to now?”

“Are we going to the Center today?” Casey asks. “Oh, and guess how many times Miles texted me just while I was in with Dr. Jones!”

“Sounds good,” Dave agrees. “Uh… five?”

“ _Twelve_ times, David!” Casey says. “I think he’s really worried that I’m dead and not telling him. Can we bring him with us today? If he doesn’t behave, we can make him walk back. Oh, or ride strapped to the roof!”

Dave has the inexplicable thought that maybe Miles has some kind of dentistry fetish, and then he has to shake his head to dislodge the thought. “Uh, sure. Damn, twelve? But I vote for the roof.”

“Does he have to ride on the roof on the way there, too? Or can we see if he can be quiet and behave?”

Dave has to laugh. “Case, you have met Brown, haven’t you?”

Casey giggles. “Yes. One day he might even actually behave! Until then, we have to give him, um, _behaving opportunities_ , right? So he can practice!”

“If he does, one day, I’ll…” Dave tries to think of something weirdly extravagant. “Take you to Disney World.”

“Oh!” Casey bounces in place. “I will have a very serious talk with Miles about his behavior. He’ll behave so well. Just wait and see.”

“So I should start saving my money now?” Dave laughs. “All right then.”

“Yes.” Casey nods his head vigorously. “I will _make_ him behave.” He actually sounds a little scary. 

The thing is, Casey might just succeed, if Brown forgets that Casey can’t actually physically force him to do a single thing. Dave unlocks the truck and sighs. “I guess you should tell him we’ll pick him up.”

“Okay, but I’m telling him he has to ride in the truck bed,” Casey says. “That way, when he gets to ride in the actual truck, he’ll already be so happy, he’ll behave better!” Casey pulls out his phone as starts texting as soon as he’s buckled in. 

“I’m not sure that’ll work, Case,” Dave says, starting the truck and heading in the direction of the Browns’, “but I guess it’s worth a try?”

“He _tries_ , David,” Casey says. “Well, sometimes he tries.”

Dave chuckles. “He tries something, all right.” It doesn’t take long to get to the Browns’—less time than Dave might like, even—and Brown is already outside, leaning against the garage door. “Speak of the devil. We’re making him sit in the back, though, right? Just not the truck bed?”

Casey gives Dave an incredulous look. “Well, he can’t have _my_ seat and if he sits in between us, I can’t talk to you. He has to sit in the back.”

Brown walks up to the passenger side of the truck and Casey points to the back door, so Brown opens it and climbs in. “Cherry, Shep. How are the two of you this fine Saturday?” Before either of them can answer though, Brown sniffs loudly and says, “Cherry, that you smelling like espresso?”

“Yes,” Casey says. “That’s me. And I don’t get to have a cyanide capsule tooth.”

“Still not a spy.” Dave shakes his head and pulls away from the curb.

“Yet, David. Not a spy _yet_.”

“Too bad about that cyanide capsule,” Brown says, his voice oozing with sympathy. “I know you were really holding out hope for one of those.”

“Maybe I can get one of those that pick up the radio signals!” Casey bounces in his seat. “David, if my tooth can get the radio, that would be really useful.”

“Only if it has a speaker,” Dave looks over at Casey and grins as they hit the interstate. 

“You could just put your head really close to my mouth,” Casey suggests.

“Be hard to drive, though,” Dave says, determinedly keeping his eyes on the cars in front of him. If he’s lucky, Brown’ll keep his mouth shut. 

“I’d probably have to start sitting in the middle seat. I could just lean my head over on your shoulder and hold my mouth open for the whole drive,” Casey says. “Oh, it might get tired, though. I’d have to get some kind of prop thing, like a stick or something, to hold it open. Maybe like that thing Dr. Jones had so I didn’t bite him!”

“You were gonna bite him?” Brown asks. 

Dave has the sinking feeling that he was right. Dentistry fetish. 

“Not on purpose. But, I mean, apparently sometimes I bite people and I don’t even plan to,” Casey says, almost too nonchalant. “I guess I just have a dangerous streak and people should watch out. I don’t _plan_ to bite a dentist or anything.”

“We’ll get a sign,” Dave offers. “Beware of Casey.”

Casey smiles and giggles. “Maybe an electric fence, too.”

“Yeah, Foots was still going on about you biting Fordham. I think he used three or four different wild animals to describe you,” Brown says. “None of ’em were real big animals, mind, but I wouldn’t want to get bit by any of them.”

“How is Rick’s head today?” Casey asks. “Is he allowed to sleep now? He sounded sort of loopy on the phone yesterday. I think they gave him something at the urgent care. He said he wasn’t ever allowed to fall asleep, ever, but I don’t think that’s true. Right, David? That can’t really be true.”

Dave laughs. “Oh, man, I can’t imagine Rick on something. Or concussed. Definitely not both.” He shakes his head. “He should be able to sleep now, yeah.”

“Yeah, he had some kind of pill they gave him,” Brown says. “I was over there for a while and then I brought him on back home with me for Alicia to take care of. He was saying all sorts of goofy shit, going on about how he thinks he has less ribs than he’s supposed to have. I don’t even know what he meant by that.”

“Maybe he thought he was in one of Casey’s low-budget horror films, and the doctors at the urgent care place actually stole some ribs?” Dave suggests. “I have a hard time picturing your sister as a nurse, though, Brown.”

“When I left, she had him on the sofa with his head in her lap, and she was all petting his hair and _cooing_ at him,” Brown says, sounding disgusted. 

“Poor Rick,” Casey says, quietly. “That sounds awful.”

“Poor _me_ ,” Brown mutters. “It _was_ awful.”

“You or Rick talk to Taylor today?” Dave asks. 

“Alicia did,” Brown says. “She got his assignments for his other classes on Friday, so she called to find out when we could bring ’em over. Says he sounds better off than Foots does, but that’s not saying much.” He shakes his head. “I can’t believe they made you work today, looking like you do, Cherry.”

“I like to work,” Casey says, shrugging. “It doesn’t feel as bad as it looks.”

“Well, that’s good I guess. Looks awful. People oughta stop messing up your nice face, Cherry. We should put out a memo.”

Dave snorts, because seriously? A _memo_? “Yeah, there’s one out now that says the opposite,” he says sarcastically. “Next week I heard there’s going to be one suggesting you shave your head, one way or another.”

“Shep, I swear,” Brown says, but he doesn’t continue. “Anyway, much as I thought it was Cherry who came out of that shit yesterday looking the worst, poor ol’ Foots seems to be the one who got the most scrambled up. Not like he needed any head trauma. Swear sometimes that boy can barely tie his own shoes.” Brown sounds like he can’t decide whether that means Rick needs a hug or another soft hit to the head, even if he’s inclined reluctantly towards the hug. 

“Rick and Taylor were both very brave,” Casey says, in his serious voice. “We made a good team.”

“Hopefully one you won’t have to reconstitute, though,” Dave says dryly. 

“You never know what’ll happen. Maybe they can be my spy team. Rick might make a really good spy, because he probably wouldn’t be too memorable if you dressed him right,” Casey says. “He’s normal sized and doesn’t have any face tattoos or anything.”

“That could always change,” Dave says with a shrug. “The face tattoos, I mean.”

“Maybe me and Rick will go when we turn eighteen.” Casey seems pretty excited about the idea. “We’ll get awesome face tattoos. I might get a parrot.”

“There’s really no reason for that,” Dave grumbles. 

“It doesn’t have to be a parrot. It could be something else. Stars or lightning bolts or something. Oh! Um. It could be… flying whales!”

Dave snorts. “Flying whales would make a bad tattoo, face or not.”

Casey giggles. “I know. I just wanted to make you say ‘flying whales’ because it’s funny.”

“You two are just bizarre. You know that?” Brown asks. 

“I’m not the one who thinks ‘flying whales’ is hilarious,” Dave shrugs. “Of all the strange things to say.”

“It’s not the concept that’s funny,” Casey says. “It’s just you saying it. I don’t know why it is. It just is.”

Dave isn’t exactly sure why it’s funny for him to say it, so he just shrugs. The rest of the drive to Dayton passes without any more discussion of potential facial tattoos, at least. When they walk in, April sort of smirks at Brown, then shakes her head and frowns at Casey. 

“Why on earth do they keep messing up your sweet little face?” April says loudly. 

Casey scowls and says, “You should see the other guy. Also, my face isn’t sweet.”

April laughs. “Of course it’s not. You missed me setting off the smoke alarm though!”

“You are a strange, strange girl,” Brown says. 

“Probably,” Aprils says cheerfully. “You missed Kurt and Puck too. Ooh,” she coos, looking at Miles, “do you need me to point someone out for you today?”

Brown looks flustered. “What? No. I don’t know what— no, alright?” Now Brown is the one glaring at April. “We’re just here to socialize.”

“Is that what you call it?” April gives Brown an amused look. “Tell me what happened,” she orders, looking at Casey, then at Dave. “Either of you.”

Casey takes a deep breath and then launches into the story. “Me and my friends Rick and Taylor got jumped at school, and it was awful! They were going to beat us up and do other horrible stuff to Taylor, but instead the three of us just pretty much kicked their asses and then Fordham went to jail. Also, I bit him.”

April blinks once. “Well. Good for you! Also, this is your lucky week. All three of you.”

“Why?” Dave asks, suspicious.

“Because you get to see me twice! I’m coming up for your school board meeting again!”

“Well, aren’t the stars just aligned in our favor,” Brown mutters under his breath.

Even after they sit down, April asks more questions about Casey’s fight, especially about how he bit Fordham, and Dave finally gets the conversation shifted only to have it land on the school board meeting the next Thursday. A few guys have strange conversations with Brown that seem to indicate Brown’s going to hook up with them later or the next day or during the week or, for all Dave knows, during the school board meeting. Hopefully not in the main meeting room, if so. Casey starts talking about _Battlestar Galactica_ after a while, and Dave chimes in then, because he really does think Starbuck was happy to find Helo alive and well, even if he was with a Cylon.

They’re still at the center when Dave’s phone chimes at the same time as Casey’s and Brown’s, and Dave pulls it out to read a text from Kurt sent to the world, or at least PFLAG: _PFLAG movie night postponed until Sat 5/19. Still accepting suggestions for relatively drama–free titles_.

Dave isn’t sure why—maybe something to do with Hudson’s suspension, though—and while Casey looks a little disappointed, he’s tired enough seeming that Dave thinks maybe it’s a good thing in the long run. 

Dave reluctantly doesn’t say a word about Brown riding in the truck bed or on the roof, though it’s tempting, and pretty soon, Casey’s head is bobbing a little until it tips over and Dave’s sure he’s asleep. Dave’s stomach starts to grumble, though, so he pulls off the interstate before they get to Lima. 

“I’m not hungry,” Casey says, even though his eyes are still closed and Dave thinks he might actually still be asleep. 

“Yeah, you’re never hungry,” Dave responds, just in case. “Maybe you should get an IV. Until then, though. Time to eat.”

Casey doesn’t say anything else until Dave pulls into a parking spot and turns off the truck, when his head suddenly pops up and he asks, “Are we home?” He looks around and adds, “No, we’re not home.”

Dave chuckles. “Dinner.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“It’s dinnertime. The time that people eat dinner.” Dave shrugs. “You _are_ a person, right?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t remember being born, so it’s possible I’m not,” Casey says. “Also, I ate thirteen cookies.”

“How are you passing math?” Dave laughs. “You ate three. C’mon, you can get that weird grilled chicken sandwich instead of a burger, I guess. Why you would want to, I still haven’t figured out.”

“It’s the only chicken I ever see,” Casey explains. 

“You people are sort of odd,” Brown says. “Not judging or anything. Just a statement of fact.”

“Pot. Kettle.” Dave shrugs and gets out of the truck, waiting until Casey and Brown both close their doors so he can lock it. 

“So, I didn’t know you knew so many people at the Center,” Casey says to Brown. “You know everybody. I don’t know most of their names, but it seems like you know all of them.”

“What can I say?” Brown says. “I make a lot of friends. I’m a friendly guy like that.”

“I bet you don’t really know most of their names either,” Casey says.

Brown laughs. “Well, I didn’t say they were close friends. They’re not the kind of friend whose names I need to know.”

“You’re awful,” Casey says, rolling his eyes and giggling.

“Yeah, that’s probably true,” Brown agrees.

Casey eats half of the grilled chicken sandwich, which Dave concedes is pretty good, because Dave’s not sure he’d eat any of it. He eats onion rings, too, and before Dave can get too tired of Brown, they’re back in Lima and Dave’s dropping Brown off in front of his house. 

“I’ll see you charming people on Monday,” Brown says. “Try not to bite anybody between now and then.”

“No promises!” Casey says, waving goodbye. 

Dave drives them home with the windows cracked, and they stop in the kitchen for a few minutes to have a pop and talk to Paul, who spent his afternoon at the Home Depot pricing shrubs. Casey still looks pretty tired, so Dave doesn’t mention watching any TV, just heads up the stairs. 

“Night, Case,” Dave calls across the hall as he turns out his light. There’s no answer, and Dave shakes his head. He knew Casey was tired. Maybe he’ll get up early enough in the morning to ask his dad about skipping church and letting Casey sleep in. Dave yawns as his head hits the pillow, and he thinks he hears his dad coming upstairs just before he drifts to sleep. 

 

Dave isn’t sure if he’s awake or dreaming; maybe it’s a little of both, which happens sometimes. He breathes in and decides that yeah, Casey probably is really in the bed with him, because that’s something that usually happens. What doesn’t usually happen is Casey kissing the side of Dave’s mouth before lying back down pressed against Dave, which means that _that_ part is probably a dream. The soft whisper of “love you David” clinches it: definitely not completely awake. Still, it’s a nice dream, a good dream, and Dave smiles to himself as he decides to just let himself stay lost in the dream instead of trying to wake up. 

 

“You know,” Casey says, poking at the pancake on his plate. “You don’t _look_ that tired, David.”

“It’s mental exhaustion. I can’t think about God and then think about history. Why didn’t you get more pancakes? They just put out a bunch of fresh ones.” And David does have a stack of at least five pancakes on his plate. 

“This one looked, um. Friendly. It looked like the friendliest pancake!” Casey says. “The other ones looked so sad, and you know how I don’t like to eat sad food, David.”

“Friendly.” David sounds a little skeptical. “Huh. Well, I’m going to eat these, so maybe they are sad.” He shrugs. 

“You are what you eat,” Casey declares. “And you are going to be a very sad pancake. Not me, though. I’m bacon and a happy pancake, and this, um. I don’t know what this pink thing is. What do you think that’s supposed to be?”

“Iced raspberry danish.” 

“Huh?” Casey looks at David with narrowed eyes to see if David’s messing with him. “How’d you know that? It just looks like a pink thing to me. Is this one of those things where you just say something so I’ll eat it?”

“No, see, it’s pink because the raspberry filling mixed with the icing. I bet the danish was still hot when they iced it or something.”

Casey pokes at the so-called iced raspberry danish with his fork, and sure enough, it does actually appear to contain raspberries. “Oh! You’re right! Of course you’re right. Sorry, David.” Casey cuts a small piece off the danish and eats it. “Tastes like… something.”

“Maybe they tried using fresh raspberries or something.” David slices into his stack of pancakes and takes a bite. “Yeah,” he says after swallowing. “They’re very sad, but they taste fine, so.”

“Yes, well, I’d probably be sad if you ate me, too,” Casey says, before he actually realizes what it is he’s saying. He looks at David, and David looks at him, and neither one of them say anything. Casey finally picks up the whole danish and takes a huge bite out of it, aware that his face is probably bright pink, and says, too loudly, “That’s a really good danish!”

“Maybe they have another one?” David replies, also just a little too loudly. “You could go through the line again. Find another friendly pancake too.”

“I think I’ll just stick with meat,” Casey says, feeling his cheeks burning as he realizes, no, that’s not really any better than the pancake thing. “Like bacon!”

“More than one piece of bacon?” David asks quickly. “You could get, um. Eggs.” He stabs his own scrambled eggs at the same time he speaks, then takes a bite. 

“No, just, um. Just the bacon. Like you say, I like what I like. And bacon. I like that! It’s, um.” Casey finally just leans over and puts his face right on the table and mumbles, “Oh god I need to just not talk any more.” He says it really quietly, though.

A server comes up then and refills their coffee cups with a slight smile. “I think they’re putting out dessert soon,” she tells them. “You should wait for that!”

“Thank you,” Casey says, his forehead still on the table.

“See?” David says after the server walks away. “Dessert. I knew this was a good idea.”

“Mmhmm,” Casey answers, from the table. “Dessert is good.”

“Maybe they’ll have some pie,” David offers. 

Casey lifts his head from the table. “I do like pie.”

They have pie, and David seems thrilled when Casey eats two pieces, one apple and one cherry. After they finish all their pie, and David also eats a piece of cake, they go back home. Casey convinces David to watch a few episodes of _Battlestar Galatica_ , even if he can’t get David to agree that they should just sit and finish the whole rest of the season that afternoon. They compromise on finishing the first _half_ of the season, and by the time they’re done with that, even Casey thinks he’s probably had enough for one day, so obviously David made a good call there.

“Damn, I really do need to study,” David frowns, looking at the clock. “Why’d I take AP classes again?”

“Because you’re smart and also you wanted to start college already having college credits?” Casey suggests. “Or because you like to suffer. It could be the second one.”

“I secretly think it might just be the suffering,” David agrees, standing up and walking towards the kitchen. “Pop? I’m going to make some popcorn to eat while I study.”

“Sure. Pop and popcorn. That’s a good combination.”

David puts a bag of popcorn in the microwave and pulls out two cans of pop before it finishes and they head upstairs. David grabs one of his history books and props himself up on his bed with it, and Casey lies down next to him, with just his head propped up on a pillow and his book open on his chest. David’s history studying seems to make him very tired, because he keeps yawning, and his eyes move across the page much more slowly than when he’s reading something he enjoys, and then he yawns some more, and then he highlights some stuff. Casey doesn’t care if his book is supposed to be for young adults; it’s obviously much more exciting than David’s history.

As he gets a little further into the book, Casey starts mentally kicking himself for not seeing the movie while it was in the theater. He’s also pretty sure that if all you have to do to win the Hunger Games is be good at not caring that you’re hungry and just going on with your business, he’d probably do pretty well. While he’s reading, he waggles his foot side to side, and a few times, it bumps into David’s foot.

“Sorry, David,” Casey says, the first time he does it.

“S’fine,” David replies absently, picking up his highlighter again. 

The second time Casey bumps David’s foot with his, he just says, “Sorry.”

David’s eyes flick away from the book for a second, then he shrugs amiably. 

The third time Casey’s foot bumps David’s, he doesn’t apologize. He just leaves it there, resting against David’s foot, and continues reading. David keeps looking at his book and highlighting lines, and Casey reads another few chapters, occasionally moving his foot against the side of David’s without really thinking about it. As time passes, David’s foot twitches every now and then, not quite moving in any noticeable way. 

Casey’s never really thought too much about whether or not David’s ticklish, but since it seems like maybe he is, and that’s funny for some reason, Casey turns his foot and runs his toes along the arch of David’s foot. David doesn’t move like it tickles then, though a few moments later, his foot does the funny twitching thing again. Casey holds his breath a little and then slowly and deliberately rubs his foot against David’s, in a not–tickling way. 

David doesn’t move for a few long seconds, still reading his book, and then his foot twitches again, except this time it definitely moves, towards Casey’s foot. Casey rubs his foot against David’s again, curling his toes a little as they touch David’s toes. David’s toes spring back just a little, then the ball of his foot runs over Casey’s toes. 

Casey sighs quietly and leans towards David, their feet still moving against each other, and the two of them continue their reading in silence. David studies for another hour or two, and then they put in the earbuds and David gets a novel and they keep reading for a while.

At one really sad part in his book, Casey starts to sniffle. He’s not _really_ crying, just leaking tears out of the corners of his eyes the tiniest bit. 

David peers over his book. “Case?”

“It’s sad,” Casey says, still sniffling. 

“It’s a kids’ book,” David says incredulously. “How sad can it be?”

Casey glares at David, though not with any real heat behind it. “It’s a _young adult novel_ and you read it and see how not–sad it is.”

David snorts. “Right. Sure. And yeah, I told you I might read it after this week.”

“No _might_ ,” Casey says. “You’re reading it. And then when you cry, I won’t even say anything. I’ll just do this and you’ll know what I mean.” He raises his eyebrows and cocks his head to the side in what he thinks is probably a good ‘told you so’ expression. 

David gets a strange look on his face and then nods slowly. “Okay. I will, uh, know what you mean,” he replies, smiling slightly. 

“Good,” Casey says. “Because that’s the look you’re getting. No way around it.” 

“Uh-huh. What if I don’t cry?”

“You will,” Casey says, confidently, looking back down at his book. 

“Right.” David still sounds skeptical, but he doesn’t argue any more. 

The rest of Sunday is equally quiet and peaceful. Paul comes home with KFC and a container of probably every single side that they offer.

“See?” David grins broadly at Casey. “We have chicken sometimes!”

“Oh hush,” Casey says, with an affectionate swat at David’s arm that just makes his grin wider. “You know what I meant.”

“Oh, no. That psych class taught me never to assume I knew what someone else was thinking or feeling.” David manages to get part of the sentence out with a straight face before the grin is back. Casey gives David the fiercest glower he can manage, and David looks like he’s trying to look very terrified indeed. At least he’s polite enough to pretend, anyway.

After dinner, they watch a few more episodes of _Battlestar Galactica_ , Paul even joins them for one of them, but he asks so many questions about what’s happening that Casey has to try his hardest not to flail around on the sofa in frustration. David finally runs Paul off and tells him he can sit and watch with them once he’s gotten caught up on his own. After they’ve watched enough, Casey and David go up and get ready for bed.

Casey tries not to think about school the next day, or run through any of the possible scenarios that might occur on the first day back after the fight, like Jojo and Fordham having left behind friends who want vengeance, which doesn’t seem too likely, or Rick’s brains still being so addled that he walks right off the bleachers in P.E., which seems possible based on the last phone conversation Casey had with him. Even with Fordham and Jojo gone, Casey’s not sure how the atmosphere’s going to be this week, with the school board meeting on Thursday, and the end result of all this thinking is that Casey’s still wide awake in his bed when the clock says it’s close to 2am. 

Since he’s obviously not going to be sleeping for a while, Casey sneaks across the hall to David’s room and climbs into bed with him. Usually David is more of a compact sleeper, with his arms and legs all right there on his side of the bed, but tonight he’s sprawled out across most of the bed, with one arm lying across the spot where Casey usually sleeps. Casey doesn’t really have any option but to just lie down on top of David’s arm. David’s hand curls around Casey’s shoulder a moment later, and David sighs deeply, still asleep. 

Since it hasn’t seemed to bother David the last two nights, and just because he really likes doing it, Casey leans up and gives David a quick kiss on his lips. He doesn’t just kiss the corner of David’s mouth this time, though, and maybe does leave his mouth there a tiny bit longer than the previous two times, before he settles back into the curve of David’s arm and falls asleep.

 

Dave decides it’s best if he doesn’t give Casey a choice in the matter and just walks with Casey all the way to his first period. Sure, Johannson and Fordham aren’t going to be at school, but there’s probably plenty of people who heard about the fight over the weekend and want to ask questions. 

There’s still some weird looks, though, because that’s just how things work at McKinley. A couple of juniors walk by talking pretty loudly, though. “I swear, someone was getting a blow job!”

“Dude, I didn’t hear anything. You’d think you’d hear something. You just watched too many videos online this weekend.”

“I didn’t!” The first guy protests. “Seriously, I think I saw two people through the space between the door and the wall! I looked away after that, though.”

“I can’t believe that some guy convinced his girl to sneak into the boys’ bathroom.” The second guy shakes his head. 

“Yeah, well, remember those rumors about the senior that won prom king?” The first guy laughs. “Maybe those were true.”

Casey makes a squeaking noise. Dave side-eyes Casey, who is somewhere between the color of a raspberry and a strawberry and pointedly looking straight ahead. Dave figures he’s probably a little pink himself and decides Casey might have the right idea, not looking at anyone right now. 

The juniors luckily continue their conversation in a different direction, and they arrive at Casey’s class without any further overheard discussions. 

“Well,” Casey finally says, his face still pink. “I’ll see you at lunch!”

Dave snorts. “I’ll see you after first period.”

Casey looks like he’s about to protest, but then seems to agree that it’s a good idea. “Oh! Ok, then!”

Dave had thought Casey might argue, so this is good, and he nods with a smile. “Yeah. Don’t blow anything up, okay?”

“I’ll do my best!” Casey says. “If I do, I’ll take some pictures on my phone for you, okay?”

Dave laughs as he turns to walk to his own class. “Okay.”

They’re walking to Casey’s third period class when they encounter Brown, who shakes his head once he has their attention.

“Next time,” he announces, “someone else has to pick up the stoned guy for school.”

“Is Rick still on drugs?” Casey asks. “Poor Rick. He didn’t walk off of anything high, did he? Because I kept thinking, what if he walked off the bleachers, and that was very upsetting to think about.”

“Yeah, I think he’s excused from P.E. for a few days,” Brown says. “He oughta be excused from school for a few more days, if you ask me, but they didn’t.”

“I don’t think I could stay awake in class if I were taking narcotics,” Dave agrees, nodding. 

“I’m not so sure that’s so different from Rick’s normal day,” Casey says. “He mostly just sort of wanders around looking happy to be here. That’s what makes Rick so nice to be around, because he’s just always so happy.”

“Well, today he looks sleepy to be here,” Brown states. “Alicia’s leading him around like some kind of damn basset hound puppy.”

Dave and Casey both laugh at that, and Brown turns down another hallway just before Casey ducks into his next class and Dave hurries off himself. 

The day has been calm, so Dave feels a little better about heading off to dual enrollment once he finishes lunch and watches Casey eat some of what he packed that morning. Class is just as boring as it usually is, and Dave grabs some Wendy’s on the way to McKinley. 

When Casey climbs into the truck, he asks, “Where’s my Frosty?” in an excited voice.

Dave picks up the Frosty and hands it to him. “I still don’t understand why you like vanilla Frosties and that’s okay, but my vanilla milkshakes aren’t,” he says with a rueful smile. 

Casey spoons a bite of Frosty into his mouth, and then says, “Reason one, the vanilla ones are better than the chocolate ones, and there’s only the two flavors. Reason two, I get other flavors of things other places, but you only ever get vanilla all the time. I never get bored.”

“I don’t get bored, either!”

“You don’t get bored because I’m around to make things exciting. I bet before me, you were bored all the time. You were probably so bored, you didn’t even know you were bored.”

“I wasn’t bored,” Dave says mildly as they drive home. “Really.”

“Well, I bet you’re a lot _less_ bored now, anyway,” Casey says. “You know I’m right.”

Dave spends more time studying that evening than Casey does, which means Casey starts reading the next book in his series, and getting really mad about it. 

“This is NOT RIGHT!” Casey bursts out. 

“No,” Dave agrees absently, because he’s reading about yet another war in Europe, and then looks up. “Wait, what?”

Casey is fuming. “I can’t tell you why I’m mad,” he says. “You have to read it.”

“You’ve mentioned,” Dave nods. “It must be well-written to get you so angry.”

“You’ll get angry, too. Just you wait.”

“I’ll have to, until I can properly explain why the Napoleonic wars did or did not lead directly to the onset of World War I.”

“Did,” Casey says. “Because short people are angry.”

“I’ll remember that if this really is one of the essay questions.”

“You’re going to do great on your test. Never have to take history classes again, probably,” Casey says. “But definitely put that in your essay if it comes up. I bet Napoleon bit a guy, too.”

Dave laughs. “Yeah, probably so, Case.” He keeps studying for awhile longer until Dave realizes he’s yawning almost as much as he’s reading, and he closes his textbook with a thump. He gets ready for bed and returns Casey’s good night from across the hall before closing his own eyes. 

He’s having that same dream again, or at least some variation of it. He doesn’t really remember for sure what he dreamed about the previous night, but it seemed pretty much like Saturday night’s. He can feel Casey next to him, and after a minute, his brain conjures up Casey kissing him. It’s not like Saturday, though; it’s not just the corner of his mouth, and Dave tilts his head up into the pressure for long enough to realize that either his brain is really good at this dreaming stuff—and he’s pretty sure his brain never has been before—or this is real. 

Dave lets his head fall back onto the pillow without opening his eyes, and he can feel Casey settle back onto the mattress beside him. After a minute or two, he hears Casey’s breathing change, and he knows Casey’s asleep. Dave exhales and tells himself to go back to sleep, too. 

 

David still insists on walking Casey all the way to his first period class and then waiting for him after it’s over, and as much as Casey wants to act like he doesn’t need David to do that for him, it’s actually pretty nice for two reasons: one, more time with David and two, people are still asking a lot of questions about what happened on Friday, and they tend to ask him a lot fewer questions when he’s with David. Casey got a lot of stares on Monday, probably because his face is still pretty bruised up, but nobody really asked him any questions. Apparently whatever shock was keeping people from asking has worn off, though, because three different people in his first period class asked him about it this morning.

Casey’s actually considering just getting some business cards made up that say, “I bit him.” Sure, he might only have a limited period of time where those are useful, but it would be really handy in the short term, especially since he has to go through the whole story all over again in his second, third, and fourth period classes. At least everybody at lunch already knows what happened, but then he’s got to tell it _again_ in fifth period. Fordham getting arrested is apparently the most exciting thing ever to happen in the sophomore class, possibly the whole school, since Tara Weisman took all of her ADHD meds at once and streaked the gym during a wrestling match, and that Lauren girl had to pin her to a mat until they could get the paramedics. 

Now that Casey thinks about it, their class sure does have a lot of exciting things happen. He’s pretty sure that’s not exactly normal.

Meeting up with Rick and Alicia and Taylor—and Miles this week, apparently, since Rick still needs someone to steer him around—is really nice because none of _them_ need to talk about it. Taylor’s fingers are splinted and he’s a little bruised still, but he still looks close to normal compared to Casey and Rick, who keeps wandering off if Alicia lets go of him. 

“Foots, you’re walking in the wrong direction again,” Miles says, sounding somewhere in between annoyed and amused. “You go that way, you’re gonna end up in the parking lot, and some stranger’s gonna lure you into his van with candy.”

“Shush, Miles,” Alicia says, rolling her eyes. “It’s not Daniel’s fault that he needs strong pain relief.”

“I’m serious, Alicia. You need to get some kind of tether for him,” Miles says. “I’m honestly worried about the boy. We’re gonna see his face on the evening news.”

“I’m not getting in any van,” Rick insists. “My mama told me not to do that. Shoot, Brown, I knew that when I was _seven_!”

“I wish the guy my dad took me to had given _me_ the good stuff,” Taylor says, sounding pretty jealous. “Must be easier to endure school that way.”

“I got a couple in my pocket if you want some,” Rick says. “Alicia, can you remember which pocket they were in?” He pats his front pockets, looking confused. “Or maybe they were in Alicia’s pockets. Alicia?”

“You can’t share your medicine, Daniel. We’ll find them when it’s time for another dose.”

“Damn,” Taylor mutters.

“Yeah, I’ll take ’em when it’s time,” Rick agrees, but he gives Taylor an exaggerated wink that he seems to think Alicia doesn’t notice. 

“David was right about the Advil,” Casey says, mostly to himself. “Definitely a gateway drug.”

Miles seems to have taken it upon himself to replan their route to class, because after they hand Alicia off to her group of shrieking, flailing Cheerios, Miles has Casey, Rick, and Taylor follow him down a hall they don’t normally use. That ends up being nice, too, because it’s a completely different set of stairs. Walking up the usual ones on Monday wasn’t all that fun, even if someone did a good job of cleaning up all the blood from Friday.

“No, Foots,” Miles says, grabbing Rick by the back of his shirt. “You can’t go in the girls’ bathroom.”

“I don’t need to _pee_ ,” Rick argues. “I just wanted to wash my hands!”

“No, Foots.” They get Rick to his class and Miles practically shoves him into the classroom.  
“Now you stay here until somebody comes and gets you, understand?”

Rick nods his agreement, but he’s got a goofy grin on his face that makes Casey think they’re going to find him in the auditorium or under a bench or having shoved himself into a locker. Poor Rick probably shouldn’t be at school until he’s not on his narcotics any more.

After Rick’s more or less taken care of, they all swing by Taylor’s classroom. Casey holds up his fist for a bump, then remembers Taylor’s hand is all splinted up, and then holds up his other fist instead before he realizes it’s not like shaking hands and which fist it is doesn’t matter. Taylor returns the bump without saying anything, because that’s just what men do, and goes into his classroom.

Finally, Miles and Casey reach Casey’s class. “I don’t have to wait here for you to come get me, right?” Casey asks Miles. “Because I’m _not_ stoned and I can probably make it downstairs without walking into a kidnapper van.”

“Well, I don’t know about that, Cherry,” Miles says. “If the kidnapper had red ring pops, we might never see you again.”

Casey laughs. “Hmm. Okay, that might be true. But he’d have to have, um, three or four of them, at least. I wouldn’t want to upset David over just one or two ring pops.”

“Let’s hope they didn’t stop at Costco,” Miles says with a broad grin. “You just wait here, Cherry. I’ll probably need the help with Foots.”

“He is sort of unwieldy,” Casey agrees. “Alright, yes. I’ll wait here, but only because you need help with poor Rick.”

“Great!” Miles keeps grinning as he starts to walk away. “Knew I could count on you, Cherry.”

Casey does wait for Miles and does help him direct Rick back down the stairs to his last period class. Rick seems to maybe be less stoned than before, but now he’s sleepy and keeps saying he should have a nap when he gets into Spanish, since they have a substitute anyway. The sub is really tiny and seems more confused about what she’s doing than Rick is, even, so Casey’s willing to bet Rick will get his nap. 

Casey’s own seventh period class is pretty boring, and a nap doesn’t sound like a terrible plan, but he manages to stay alert enough to participate. When class is over, he goes right to the parking lot to meet David. Miles had offered to walk out there with him, after he gets Rick and Alicia, but today just seems like a day that will be better if everybody goes their own separate ways for a while. 

“So,” Casey says, as he buckles his seatbelt in David’s truck, “what would it take to get _you_ into a kidnapper van?”

“Isn’t that obvious by now?” David grins. “Chili.”

“I’ll remember that. You’re _way_ easy to kidnap, David. Now I’m going to worry.”

“Not just _any_ chili,” David scoffs. “Wendy’s chili? No. Karofsky chili? Definitely.”

“Well, I guess that’s a little better,” Casey says. “Miles says all it would take to kidnap me is red ring pops.”

“Just ring pops?” David shakes his head. “I doubt it.”

“I didn’t think so, either,” Casey says. “I mean, you buy me ring pops all the time, and you’ve never kidnapped me even once.”

“Yet.” David laughs. “The key word is yet.”

“Yet,” Casey agrees. “Give me some warning if you do, though. I’ll wear something nondescript, so it’ll be harder to find us. Also, don’t tie me up, because if I fall over while you’re driving the van way, I might get carsick.”

“I’ll just handcuff you to the seat,” David agrees.

Casey can feel his cheeks turning red. “I, um. I don’t think you own any handcuffs. Do you? Own those?”

“I don’t own any kidnapping gear, actually,” David says with a slight frown. “I guess that might be your warning. When I go shopping for ski masks and chloroform.”

None of this actually makes Casey’s face any less red, for some reason. “We, um. Oh! We should do kidnapping practice scenarios! To practice, um. Escaping!”

“Yeah, they probably have how-to videos about Houdini or something.”

“So you can tie me up with some of your Boy Scout knots and I’ll Houdini out of them,” Casey says. “We’ll practice not in a moving vehicle first, though.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a better plan,” David agrees, wincing at the last sentence. 

“You’ll have to lure me in with something better than candy, though,” Casey says, and he _almost_ backtracks when he realizes how it sounds, then decides he’s actually perfectly okay with how it sounds. 

David laughs. “I’ll keep that in mind, Case.”

After they arrive home, Casey manages to convince David that they should watch one or two episodes of _Battlestar Galactica_ so that his brain can rest before he has to study more for his AP exam. Well, David might not actually be convinced, but he goes along with it, at least. After their episodes are over, though, David does his studying and Casey finishes his book, which leaves him so upset he decides not to start on the third one that night. They eat dinner with Paul and for some weird reason end up playing Euchre for almost an hour, before looking at the cards starts making Casey’s eyes cross and he declares that he is going to bed in Euchre–related exhaustion. 

For once, Casey’s in bed and asleep before he even hears David starting on his bedtime routine. He sleeps for a long time. His dreams are quieter and don’t wake him until after three, which is a nice change from the 1–2 am wakeups he’s been having since Friday. Casey even considers, _actually_ considers, not going into David’s room, and letting David have an uninterrupted night’s sleep, too, but ultimately, he finds himself sneaking across the hall like he always does. 

After he climbs under the covers, Casey doesn’t immediately move close to David. He lies there a while, listening to David breathe, and thinking. David kissed him back last night. Just a little, just barely, but he _did_ , Casey knows he did. Maybe that means Casey needs to stop doing this. Maybe that means Casey needs to keep doing this. None of this is exactly anything that Casey’s got some sort of chart or set of instructions for, and he can’t talk about it with anybody, not even David. All Casey knows for sure is that he _likes_ kissing David goodnight.

Well, either David knows and likes it, or David knows and doesn’t like it, so Casey may as well just kiss him goodnight and see what happens. Maybe he’ll just stay mostly asleep and kiss Casey back a little again, and it’ll be nice, and Casey will sleep, and they’ll carry on not talking about it. Casey leans up and presses his mouth against David’s, his lips slightly parted, and he feels David move just the smallest bit, like he’s maybe awake, at least a little. David’s breath is warm on Casey’s face and he leaves his lips against David’s for a little longer than he probably should. 

When Casey finally pulls away, David mumbles something that’s too quiet and too sleep–muffled for Casey to really make out, except it ends with “Case.” Casey folds himself into the curve of David’s body, his head tucked under David’s chin.

“I love you, David,” Casey whispers. He doesn’t fall asleep again for a long time, but he doesn’t mind. 

 

Wednesday morning starts out so well that Dave can’t help but figure it’s going to be a good day. His dad cooks breakfast—sausage, eggs, _and_ fried potatoes—and Dave even manages to sneak a second slice of meat onto Casey’s sandwich for lunch. There’s fewer weird looks in the hallway when he’s walking with Casey to class, and one of Dave’s morning classes gets cancelled, which means he has time to fit in a workout before lunch. When he grabs his lunch from his locker and then swings by Casey’s fourth period class, he’s feeling pretty damn ebullient, to borrow one of those impresses–the–AP–exam–reader words.

When they reach the cafeteria, Rick is sitting beside Alicia, no longer looking stoned. Brown is sorting through colored notecards, reading them out loud to Rick and Alicia, who look pretty bored with the entire affair. 

“Casey! Karofsky! Hey!” Rick says, looking up at them with obvious relief. “You’re here for lunch! Sit down and, uh, talk to us about something… not American history.”

“Hi Rick,” Casey says. “You’re looking a lot more not stoned today.”

“American history?” Dave is confused for a second, until he hears Brown, who is still reading his notecards and says something about suffragettes and bloomers. “Oh. Uh. Tomorrow’s the final school board meeting?”

“I’m either very worried or very excited. I can’t tell which. Both, maybe!” Casey says, sitting down and unpacking his lunch. He pulls out his sandwich, takes a bite, then lifts the top slice of bread, stares pointedly at Dave for a moment, and then takes another bite without a comment. 

Brown puts down his notecards at last. “I’m excited. You know why? Because this time, I’m skipping _my_ afternoon classes. None of you bothered to tell me last month, and I had to sit through history, and physics, and that stupid mixed media art class I got stuck in for my elective credit. I wanted to take photography, but no. All those seniors filled it right up.”

“Well, I bet mixed media’s real fun,” Rick says, with a mouthful of meatloaf. “Don’t you get to glue all kinda stuff together? What’s that called, where you glue the paper to the wood, and then you shellac over it?”

It’s sort of a relief that Rick was talking about that decorative stuff and not gluing colored pasta on cardboard like they sometimes do in the nursery. “Hey, Brown, does that mean you’ll have art on display for the end of the year?”

“Shut up, Shep. Just shut up.”

“Ooh, I’ll have to take a look!” Alicia says. 

“Are they going to hang it up on the wall, Miles?” Casey asks, his tone a little too sincere.

“Brown, you oughta submit it to the Artists of Lima thing next year,” Rick suggests. “I bet your stuff’s at least as good as them orange kittens.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Foots,” Miles says, glowering at both Casey and Rick. 

“Oh! You’re right, Rick!” Casey says. “Miles’ art would have to be better than that stuff. Miles, you could be _famous_! Well, famous in Lima, anyway.”

“Shut up, Cherry,” Miles grumbles. “You too, Foots. And you, Alicia. You especially.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Alicia protests, but she’s grinning pretty widely. 

Casey makes a big show of being wounded, picking at his food morosely with a large frown on his face. “I was just trying to be supportive,” he says quietly, like his feelings are hurt, but Dave can tell it’s actually because he’s trying to keep from laughing. 

“Now see what you’ve done, Brown,” Dave says, shaking his head sadly, and Casey sniffles loudly, right on cue. 

“Now that’s just sad, Brown,” Rick says. “What kinda person goes and makes Casey cry?”

Brown harrumphs and scowls silently for a moment. “Well,” he says slowly. “How is that singing, dancing telenovela getting back in time for tomorrow’s meeting?”

Casey immediately drops the pitiful act. “I bet they’re taking a plane.”

“And here I thought they were gonna take one of them taxicabs all the way from New York City!” Rick says. 

“Is it pick on Miles Brown day? All I mean is, aren’t they still competing tomorrow or something?”

Alicia shrugs. “Now how we would know that, Miles? Why does it matter?”

“Well, I figure if Brass doesn’t make it back in time for the entire meeting, he’s going to have a big old epic queen–out, and I can’t decide if I want to video it, or if I’m afraid of it.”

“Afraid,” Casey and Rick both mutter at the same time. 

“No,” Dave says, and Alicia nods with him. “Definitely video.”

“I could use it for training purposes!” Alicia says brightly. 

“You could put it on YouTube with his other one,” Casey suggests. “You could start a whole collection of them.”

“The Big Brass Balls Channel, I think I’d call it,” Brown nods. 

“I don’t believe I’d want him to find out I was running that channel, if I was you,” Rick says. 

Dave laughs. “No, _that_ is what I’d really like to have a video of.”

 

Paul decides that Wednesday evening is a great day for the three of them to spend an hour or so weeding and spreading even more grass seed, which means that they only watch one episode of _Battlestar Galactica_ before Dave abandons the television for one last review of his history before the exam the next afternoon. Casey sits nearby and starts on the last book of his series for about thirty minutes before he goes to bed. Dave stays up another forty-five, even though he probably should have gone to bed when Casey did, and then finally gets ready for bed and turns off the lights. 

He’s in the middle of a dream about a water tower and his dad being a rodeo star when the dream changes a little, and Casey’s lying next to him while they watch Paul on a bull on a television instead of live. Paul gets thrown off a bull and dream–Casey clutches more tightly to Dave’s arm. Once Paul is deemed okay, and there’s a big thumbs-up directed at the camera, Casey leans over and kisses Dave softly, which makes Dave start to wonder if this is really a dream or not, because he’s pretty sure his dad doesn’t ride bulls, but he’s also starting to suspect that Casey really is kissing him. On the off chance that it’s all true, or all not true, either way, he kisses back softly, because he likes that, and also, it’s a perfectly valid celebratory response to his dad being okay after being thrown off the bull. 

Casey keeps kissing him, his lips warm against Dave’s, and the television starts to fade, which means that he probably was dreaming before, but probably isn’t now. Dave thinks that if he were truly honorable, he’d stop kissing Casey and pull away, but he doesn’t want to, and he can be honorable plenty during the daytime.


	4. 3x33 Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One last reheartsal; Nobody gets enough sleep; Bolder than we thought; "His name is Puck"; Seriously, no one stops believin'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Playlist for 3x33 Part I](http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLECAF7830BDC71AA8)

“Noah! Kurt!” Hannah flings herself at both of them as soon as Puck steps through the door to the apartment, and he can hear Kurt laugh as Puck staggers just a little with Hannah’s impact. 

“Hey, squirt. Where’s the fire?”

“Mom said you’re going back to New York _tomorrow_! Are you excited?” 

“Yeah, we are,” Puck answers her. “Though I’ve got to take a test in the morning before we leave.” He makes a face. It’s not that he hasn’t studied, and this is stuff he needs to actually know, not just learn for an exam, but still. The last two days haven’t really been conducive to studying. 

Not that he’d _trade_ them. 

“Hello, Noah, Kurt,” Rina says as they finally get farther inside the apartment. “Good weekend?”

Puck grins. “Yeah, pretty good.” He very carefully doesn’t look at Kurt, though Kurt squeezes his hand and he thinks Kurt’s trying not to laugh. “Looking forward to tomorrow. You got my email the other day?”

“Yes, I did.” Rina nods. “I appreciate it. So you are all supposed to be back on Thursday for the school board meeting?”

“That’s the plan. Shouldn’t be any snowstorms in Atlanta this time of year.”

“If there are, we have bigger problems than just getting back from New York in time,” Kurt says. “And if there is a delay, I think there’s enough Internet devices we can watch and even possibly participate, no matter how unconventional the school board members might find it.”

“Right,” Puck nods. 

“Ooh, you mean you could, like, FaceTime the meeting?” Hannah grins. “That would be so cool! Oh, Noah, guess what?”

“What is it?”

“Rebecca’s going to the magnet school next year too!” 

“Awesome!” Puck breathes a little sigh of relief, because he kept forgetting to ask Sam or call Hannah, what with all the other shit going down at school the last week. “So you and Stevie and Rebecca all, huh?”

“Yep! I’m so excited. Mom said we’d go get some of my supplies soon, ’cause I have to have more stuff for my new school! Like even different dance clothes than what I wear to dance class now and some art supplies and stuff!” Hannah sits down at the table, but she’s still bouncing in place. “And there’s all kinds of volunteer things but Mom said she was going to talk to you about that.” Hannah closes her mouth abruptly and looks over at Rina guiltily. “Sorry, Mom!”

“It’s fine, Hannah,” Rina waves off her apology. “Let’s just sit down and eat and let the boys tell us about their week.”

“Uh.” Puck looks at Kurt, who looks about as panicked as Puck feels. “Well, we uh. It was. A week.”

“Oh?” Rina doesn’t seem to notice their chagrin. 

“Well, you know. People are getting, uh, excited about next week. The school board meeting,” Puck finally answers. 

“Exactly.” Kurt nods. “There’s a lot of discussion about it. Strong feelings on both sides of the issue.”

“Strong— oh.” Rina nods once. “I see. Did that… dominate the events of the week?” she asks, casting a sidelong glance at Hannah.

Puck nods. “More or less, yes.”

“Ah, well. In that case, how does the glee club feel about your chances in New York?”

“I think we’re gonna do good.” Puck shrugs. “I mean, we can’t predict the competition, but we’ve got good songs and choreography and we’ve actually rehearsed. And rehearsed.”

“And then, rehearsed some more,” Kurt agrees wryly. 

“And we’re gonna have a chance to check out some apartments and stuff like that, while we’re there,” Puck adds, “so that’ll be cool.”

“Which apparently is quite different in New York than anywhere else, but.” Kurt shrugs. Luckily, Burt’s willing to put up some of the extra fees, because even though they actually have a decent income on paper, there’s still going to be some landlords that don’t want to rent to a couple of nineteen year olds. Almost nineteen year olds. Nineteen by the time they get there in August, anyway. 

“Oh?”

“There’s broker fees and guarantors and a lot of requests for paperwork, and if you’re from out of state, they want travelers’ checks or cashiers’ checks or the like.” Kurt takes a bite before continuing. “As near as we can figure, it’s quite difficult on some level, but I found the sites and then Puck deciphered the money parts.” He smiles wryly. 

“Well, that’s good, I suppose. Noah, remind me to ask you a favor before you go tonight?”

“Yeah, sure, Mom.”

“Are you going to live near Central Park?” Hannah asks. “And the American Girl Store? And the Empire State Building?”

Puck laughs. “It’d be hard to live near all three of those, squirt. But we should at least be near the Park, and the subway goes practically everywhere, okay?”

“Cool!” Hannah grins. “I want to see _everything_ when I come to visit.”

“It might take more than one visit to see everything,” Kurt says, smiling at her. “You’ll have to make a list.”

“Ooh! I can number it and then we can.” She frowns. “What’s that word, Mom? About studying and deciding what to do first?”

“Prioritize?”

“Yeah! We can prioritize it!”

“Sure, squirt. We’ll prioritize it.”

After dinner, Rina tells Hannah to go work on cleaning up her room, and then Rina turns to Puck. “You’ll have some time to do a little bit of shopping?” she asks.

Puck shrugs. “Yeah, we should have some. Why?”

Rina reaches into her pocket and pulls out an envelope. “Get Hannah some things from that American Girl Store with this? I don’t know what you two bought for her already and if I ask her what she wants, she just says everything,” Rina explains wryly. “But it’s all she talks about, so I assume that would make good birthday presents.”

“Sure.” Puck accepts the envelope and nods. “We’ll do our best.” He worries that there’s not really enough in the envelope to buy too terribly much, but they’ll figure that out when they get there. If he has to throw in another ten or twenty, it’s not going to totally throw off his own budget. 

“Well.” She sighs and looks sad suddenly. “Good luck, Noah, Kurt. I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time. Let me know when you arrive, Noah? And when you’re back in Lima?”

“Sure, Mom,” Puck agrees. “I’ll let you know.”

“I know you two have to go rehearse. Just tell your sister good-bye, all right? Maybe send her a few pictures via email while you’re gone.”

“Yeah, all right.” 

Hannah keeps chattering about things to see in New York City right up until the moment Puck pulls the door shut behind them, having apparently checked out some kind of kids’ guide to New York at the library on Wednesday, and Puck shakes his head, laughing, as they walk to the stairs. 

“You’d think she was the one moving there.” He wraps his fingers with Kurt’s and grins. “Right?”

“Exactly.” Kurt steps closer to Puck. “At least neither of them seemed to notice that we’re still…”

“Fragrant?”

“Exactly.” Kurt shakes his head. “One more rehearsal.”

“One more day.”

“Nice Broadway reference, baby.”

Puck grins. “Thought you’d like that.”

 

Kurt leads them up the stairs when they cross back over the river, avoiding Burt and Carole in the living room. Finn’s door is closed, and Kurt knocks softly. “It’s us.”

There’s the sound of the door being unlocked and then Finn opens it. “Hey, you guys.”

“Hey.” They walk into the room quickly and Puck smirks. “You get them?”

“I did,” Finn says, pulling a phone out of each back pocket. “Let’s do this thing.”

“It’s so nice of them to trust us and not use a passcode,” Kurt remarks, taking one of the phones. “Puck, baby, use Finn’s iPad and set up an account for Carole real quick?”

Puck nods and goes to the foursquare site, grinning. “They’re going to kill us.”

“Well, better for this than something else,” Finn says, going into Burt’s foursquare settings. 

“The real question is, do we start at the Columbus airport? Or wait until we land at LaGuardia?” Kurt giggles, obviously waiting on the foursquare app to download onto Carole’s phone. 

“LaGuardia. I don’t want to be in the same state with her when we do,” Finn says, grimly. 

“Did she say anything else?” Puck asks. “Account’s up, K.”

“Burt was there, and I guess we’re just all acting like I was out playing video games or something?” Finn shrugs. “I don’t know. She didn’t really say anything, but she keeps giving me this look.”

Kurt makes a face, but types in Carole’s account information before responding. “I still can’t figure out why she’s so adamant about keeping it from Dad. I mean, I suppose we shouldn’t complain, as it’ll probably make it easier, but.”

“Weird pregnancy thing?” Puck guesses, shrugging. “Where do we have to sneak these back to, Finn?”

“Mom’s was in her purse, Burt’s was on the charger in the kitchen.” 

"That shouldn't be too difficult, then, assuming they stay in the living room. We should put Carole's back first, though; I could more easily convince Dad one of us picked up his off the charger by mistake."

“Yeah, I’ll go put mom’s back,” Finn says. “I’m already on her shit list. I’m kinda her _whole_ shit list. No point in you guys being on there, too.”

“Should we do a test one before we put them back?” Puck suggests. “We can delete it or whatever.”

“Yeah, I’ll check in,” Finn says, pulling his own phone out of his front pocket. He pokes at his touchscreen a few times, and Burt and Carole’s phone both ding. “Works. We should change the sound to something… worse.”

“What about that really loud alarm?” Kurt suggests. “The one that sounds like a cross between a foghorn and a warning at a nuclear reactor?”

“That’s so awesome,” Finn says, changing the settings on Burt’s phone, while Kurt changes Carole’s. 

“They are going to hate us when it starts,” Kurt says, giggling a little. “Oh, change Dad’s password now. So they can’t alter their notifications.”

“Hate us _more_ , anyway,” Finn mutters, making the change to Burt’s password. “I’m changing it to ‘badgerpride’ in case you need to know it.”

Kurt and Puck both nod and Puck looks at the clock. “You’d better put Carole’s back now.”

“Oh, yeah, shit,” Finn says. “Cutting it close. I’ll go orange–juice–ninja this back into her purse, then we’ll go rehearse.”

“C’mere,” Puck says. Finn takes the few steps over to Puck, and Puck reaches his arm up to pull Finn down into a soft kiss. “Okay, now you can go.”

“Nope, not yet,” Finn says, and he turns to Kurt and leans down to kiss him. “See, now I can go.”

They both grin at Finn and Kurt exchanges phones with Finn before Finn pokes his head out the door, looking down the hallway. He gives Puck and Kurt a thumbs up and then slips out the door, presumably to return Carole’s phone to her purse. 

“We should probably leave before Carole decides Finn’s forcing us to sit in his room or something,” Puck snorts, and Kurt nods, rolling his eyes. 

“Time to go outside for rehearsal, I suppose.” Kurt stands and makes sure his phone is in a pocket, Burt’s phone in his hand. “We’ll just stop by the kitchen.”

They walk down the stairs quietly and Kurt plugs Burt’s phone in before grabbing three pops from the refrigerator and handing one to Puck. They head outside and lean against the railing until Finn reappears. 

“Success?” Kurt asks. 

“Yep, she didn’t notice,” Finn says, leaning on the railing beside Puck. “I kinda think she’s making a point of ignoring me unless she can really light into me, and I guess she’s not gonna do that with Burt there.”

Kurt reaches across Puck to hand Finn one of the two remaining pops with a nod. “I think Dad must be chalking this all up to pregnancy.”

“Considering we went through a week of Mexican hell? It’s not totally outside the realm of possibility.” Puck shrugs. 

Finn leans toward Puck and bumps shoulders briefly. “This weekend was worse than Mexican hell. I never thought I’d have to say that phrase.”

“Maybe we should call the Mexican place from New York and place take-out orders on Carole’s behalf,” Kurt muses. “At least one night.”

“Can we place it in the name of Juan GoFuck Josef?” Finn asks.

Puck laughs. “Yeah, Burt’ll be all ‘who would do this?’ and your mom’s going to just have to sit there quietly and not say a word.”

“Burt’ll probably blame the baseball players,” Finn says. 

“Poor, poor baseball players,” Kurt coos. “I’m so sad for them.”

“Crying a river, dude,” Finn says. “Seriously. Big fat tears.”

Mike and Tina step through the sliding glass door, Tina almost bouncing and Mike grinning. His grin gets bigger when he looks at the three of them. “I’m so excited!” Tina says. “I have almost everything packed. I can’t believe we have to go to three classes first, though!”

“I have to take an exam first,” Puck grumbles. “Should’ve asked for one of those early test dates, I guess.”

“At least you won’t be driving your teachers crazy?” Mike says, then shakes his head. “Nah, driving them crazy would be better.” He looks at Finn and raises one eyebrow enquiringly. Finn shrugs slightly, his shoulder moving against Puck’s. 

“And we get an actual bus this year, so we don’t have to carpool,” Tina continues. “That’s something.”

“It is,” Kurt agrees. “I especially appreciate it.”

“I’m worried about the flight,” Finn says. “What if I get stuck in the middle seat again? I barely fit last time and I’m pretty sure I take up more room this year than last year.”

“Between the three of us, we should get one aisle seat, d— Finn,” Kurt replies. 

“Oh, ok, yeah,” Finn says, nodding his head and grinning like it only just occurred to him that they might all three be sitting together on the plane. “That’s great!”

“I’m so glad we have a non-stop flight!” Tina says as the door slides again, this time Quinn, Santana, and Brittany all stepping through. 

“I just hope Trouty Mouth doesn’t become Pukey Mouth _again_ ,” Santana says. “Who gets plane sick? No turbulence and it wasn’t like it was during landing or something.”

“Tell me about it,” Puck groans. “I was next to him and he just… turned green. So weird.”

“Aliens,” Brittany says. “Happens all the time.”

“You know,” Kurt sighs. “Stranger things have happened.”

The other four walk outside then, and soon enough, they’re all staring expectantly at Finn. Except for Rachel, who’s twisting her fingers and staring at them. 

“Are we all packed? If anyone isn’t already packed, they should leave immediately after rehearsal to pack!” She looks up. “Perhaps we should all skip our third period class for one final rehearsal tomorrow!”

“Berry.” Santana levels a glare at her. “Chill. We’ll all be in the choir room with our luggage after third period, and we’ve rehearsed more than… I don’t know. More than something that’s a lot.” She sighs and shakes her head. 

“Calm down, Rach,” Finn says. “Seriously, we’re gonna be fine. It’s all cool.”

“You’re surprisingly calm,” Artie says. “I thought you’d be freaking out and trying to schedule a 2am rehearsal or trying to make us sleep in our dancing shoes to toughen up our feet.”

“I was expecting some kind of stretching during classes,” Sam admits. “Or a vocal rehearsal on the plane.”

“Nah. I think we’re ready,” Finn says. “It’s all good.” Finn sounds more like he’s discussing what they might eat for breakfast in the morning than a national show choir competition. 

“Okay, now you sound a little too calm,” Artie says. “I’m starting to agree with Sam’s theory.”

“I can assure you that Finn is not high,” Kurt says, heaving an exasperated sigh. “The only person we’re going to drug is— oh, wait, it’s not going to work if we warn them.” He smirks slightly. 

“Finn!” Rachel looks like she might hyperventilate. “How can you be so cavalier and irresponsible about our preparation on the eve of competition?”

“Uh.” Finn shrugs and glances at Puck out of the corner of his eyes. “Because of, uh. Reasons.”

Mike coughs suddenly, and when Tina tries to pat his back, he waves her off. “Fine. I’m fine. Must’ve been some dirt or something. We should, uh. Rehearse?”

“Yeah, we should probably do that,” Finn says. 

They start to rehearse, but in the middle of the duet, Rachel just stops singing, putting her hands on her hips as she stares at Finn. “Finn, why are you dancing like that? You have to actually _step_ to your left.”

“What? I’m stepping!” Finn protests, but Puck has to turn around not to laugh, because he’s _not_ , and it’s pretty obvious he knows it. 

They start again but he still isn’t really stepping to his left. Rachel doesn’t stop again, though, not during the rest of that run-through nor the two subsequent ones. After the third run-through, Finn announces that it’s time to call it quits and that they’re all going to Pat’s.

“Really?” Mercedes looks at him, surprised. “I mean, I’m not complaining!” She grins. “I just figured we’d be out here until ten pm or something.”

“I don’t think going through this another ten times is going to make us any more ready,” Finn says. “I do think that getting a doughnut would make me ten times happier though, so, let’s just go with whatever works for, like, morale or whatever.”

“Not to be confused with morals,” Puck offers. “Right?”

“Right. Morals are optional. Morale isn’t,” Finn agrees. 

“And morels are surprise mushrooms,” Kurt deadpans. 

Finn starts laughing and shakes his head. “Love those things.”

Most of the rest of them stare at Finn and Kurt like they have no idea what they’re talking about, which they don’t, but they appear to chalk it up to something like the spank–the–pita. They make it to Pat’s, minus Rachel, who left the Hudmel house in a tizzy muttering about her skin care routine and getting enough sleep, because she _cannot_ sleep on planes.

The remaining eleven of them push some tables together and are probably pretty annoying for the other customers in Pat’s, but there aren’t a ton of those at Pat’s on a Sunday evening. 

Everyone’s talking to everyone else, when Mike looks over at Finn, then Puck and Kurt, before looking back at Finn. “You guys all okay now?” he asks quietly. 

Finn tilts his head to the side and squints at Mike, like he’s not exactly sure what Mike’s asking him. “Yeah,” Finn says slowly. “We’re good.”

“Good, good,” Mike answers, nodding. “Good.”

“Really good.” Kurt smirks a little. 

Finn grins. “Yeah, kinda awesomely good.”

“You two.” Puck shakes his head, grinning along with them. “Really?”

Finn shrugs. “I know, right?”

Mike looks really amused and shakes his head. “Well, okay. Good.” He grins at them and then turns back towards Tina, who’s trying to convince Sam and Artie that they all need at least six different shirts in case it’s cold or hot or both. 

“Oh!” Tina interrupts herself. “You six!” She looks at Santana, Brittany, and Quinn before turning to look at Puck, Finn, and Kurt. “Those T-shirts you wore after the school board meeting, make sure you bring those with you to New York.”

“I’ll bite,” Santana says. “Why?”

“The rest of us got one! We can all wear them on Tuesday when we go to block,” Tina explains. 

Santana shrugs. “All right. Cool.”

Everyone starts their individual conversations back up again, and Puck leans on one arm, looking at Kurt and Finn. “I think you scared them earlier, Finn,” he says, grinning. 

Finn shrugs again, apparently his default gesture for the evening. “I’m keeping them on their toes or whatever.”

“You should have sent them home and just the three of us could have come to Pat’s,” Kurt points out. “Just a possibility.”

“Shit, that would have been a better plan,” Finn mutters to himself. “Hey, the rest of you guys! You should, uh, go home and get some sleep now!” he announces to the rest of the table. “Go now. Begone and pack and whatever.”

Sam shakes his head. “Now, see? There’s the Finn Hudson we expected tonight. Sort of.”

“Why are you still here? Go!” Finn waves at the door. “Go away now!”

Kurt starts giggling and Puck takes a long drink. The crazy thing is that it _works_ , and three minutes later, it’s just the three of them and a cranky looking old guy in the far corner. They move to a booth near the back and all slide in one side, Puck against the wall and Finn on the outside, his legs in the aisle, with Kurt squished between them. 

“This is better,” Kurt says, one hand on Puck’s thigh, and when Puck tilts his head, he can see Kurt’s other hand on Finn’s thigh. Puck just nods, putting his arm behind and letting his fingers brush against Finn’s shoulder. Finn gradually leans his weight against Kurt, until Kurt’s being pushed against Puck, and the three of them are compressed into an impossibly small amount of the booth. 

“Yep,” Puck agrees. “Why did you have everyone here, again?”

“’Cause the smart one didn’t stop me?” Finn offers. “I’m just here to make people dance and to carry your luggage.”

“I thought you had a _reason_ to get everyone here eating doughnuts,” Puck protests.

“I thought maybe he was buying doughnuts for everyone,” Kurt says, grinning. “Like he did Cinnabons.”

“Hey! It seemed like a… I dunno. Idea. At the time.”

“Is it late enough yet?” Kurt asks. “I really do have to pack. And we have to be at school early.”

Puck groans. “Don’t remind me. I’m either really ready or totally unprepared.”

“Yeah, everybody needs a good night’s sleep,” Finn says, nodding his head. “Sleep is very important. Oh, shit, and packing.”

“I don’t know why you’re panicking about packing, since we all know I’m going to end up packing for all three of us,” Kurt says, shaking his head. “But we probably should go home, you two.”

“Yeah, okay,” Puck concedes. 

“I _could_ pack my own stuff,” Finn says. “You’d just do it better.” He frowns. “You think she’s gone to bed?”

“If she hasn’t yet, she will soon,” Kurt answers. 

“Packing requires Finn being in the bedroom,” Puck points out. “You can’t be in your room and pack his stuff otherwise.”

“That’s true.” Kurt nods. “My bed is more conducive to packing.” He purses his lips and smirks. “Isn’t it?”

“Yes!”

Puck laughs and Kurt keeps smirking. “Then we should go,” Puck says. “Before we get ourselves in trouble with that woman behind the counter.”

 

“It’s like a luggage landmine field in here, K.”

“With a side of clothing bomb?” Kurt adds, sounding amused. 

“I can’t find my underwear,” Finn announces. “I set it down in here somewhere and now it’s just _gone_.”

“You could just leave it here and not worry about it?” Puck suggests, grinning. 

“Probably at least need a pair for dancing, dude,” Finn says. “Could be dangerous for me or other people.”

“For some inexplicable reason, Finn, it’s sitting on top of Puck’s backpack.”

“Oh, that makes perfect sense,” Finn says. “In that whole not actually sorta way.”

Puck laughs and decides to check that the door’s locked, then moves one pile of clothes out of the way enough so that he can sit on the bed. “You know, we could explain it if you two had stuff mixed in together. Might be a little harder to explain if Finn and I do. People would think Finn had started wearing capris or something.”

“Dude, nobody ever questions anything I do,” Finn says. “Either I finally managed to make them all scared of me or they just assume I’m going to do something weird and so it doesn’t surprise them. Well, ok, except for breaking early tonight, but that was just ’cause I didn’t want to dance any more.”

“Sam legitimately thinks you’ve been stoned,” Kurt says, putting some of the piles of clothes into one of the open pieces of luggage. “I would have anticipated more rehearsal if you were stoned, however, based on your previous experience with an altered state of consciousness.”

“Just high on life, I guess,” Finn says. “Unless Puck’s been sneaking pot into food again.”

“High on life, hmm?” Puck smirks. “Is that what we’re calling it? And I didn’t provide you any food today so you can’t blame me.”

Finn shrugs. “I’ll call it whatever. I’m easy.”

Kurt tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. “Easy? Really? Would you like to elaborate?”

“Or he could just demonstrate.”

“Yeah, and then you can explain why we’re going to New York without any actual clothes in our suitcases,” Finn says, leaning over and kissing Puck on the forehead. 

“All we really need are our costumes, right? And lube?” Puck grins. 

“Yeah, maybe you guys, but I’m pretty sure I’m going to have to come up with a reason why _I_ can’t leave your hotel room and maybe that’s not, like, the best way to end the school year,” Finn says. “Also means there wouldn’t be any sightseeing.”

“Never fear,” Kurt sighs. “I think most of your things are packed now, Finn. I just have a few more things to get out. I’m not sure why Tina said we should take multiple outfits for each day; it’s pretty easy to check the weather forecast.”

Puck laughs. “Maybe she was afraid of a sudden cold front? It’s the warmest spring on record for most of the eastern US.”

“Maybe she thinks we won’t do a good job of dressing ourselves and she wants to come around and put together some outfits for us,” Finn says. “Which, that’s kind of stupid, since, you know. Kurt.”

“By the time we have on our costumes all day Wednesday and part of the day Thursday, and we’re all wearing our T-shirts on Tuesday, there’s not much _time_ to put together outfits,” Kurt points out, shrugging. 

“So I could just pack the underwear and I’d be fine, is what you’re saying?”

Kurt giggles. “You’d have the clothes you wear tomorrow, I guess.”

“Ok, then I’m not gonna stress too much about the packing,” Finn says. 

“Because you were stressing so much before,” Puck says dryly. 

“I was thinking about maybe stressing a little, like, later or something,” Finn says.

“We could just go straight for the stress _relief_?” Puck quirks an eyebrow.

“See? I’m stressed,” Finn says. “Puck, I’m totally stressed about all the, uh, packing and traveling and whatever.”

“Yeah?” Puck grins. “You want some help with that, I take it?”

“Hmm. Yes.” Finn nods and grins back at Puck. 

Puck sits up and reaches his arm out, grabbing one of Finn’s belt loops and tugging him closer. “You sure about that?” He grins and moves his hand to the front of Finn’s jeans, unfastening them quickly.

“Yeah, definitely sure,” Finn says. 

“Good.” Puck pushes Finn’s jeans down, then slides his fingers under the waistband of Finn’s underwear and slowly slides them down as well. Finn runs his hand over Puck’s head. Puck grins and tilts his head into Finn’s hand, running his fingers over Finn’s cock. “Tell me what you want?”

“Would you, I mean, do you want to…” Finn moves his hand over Puck’s head again. “Your mouth, maybe? If that’s… is that ok?”

Puck starts to nod as Kurt steps behind Finn, whispering something in Finn’s ear that Puck can’t make out. Finn turns a little red, but he nods his head in response. 

Finn takes a deep breath and says, “I want you to suck my cock,” then he turns a little brighter red. 

Puck does nod, wrapping one hand around the base of Finn’s cock and running his tongue over the tip. Slowly, he closes his eyes and takes Finn into his mouth, using his other hand to hold Finn’s balls. Finn’s fingers tighten on the back of Puck’s head. Puck slides his hand up a little and brings his lips closer, almost meeting his fingers. 

“Look at you two,” Kurt says, and Puck can hear him grinning. “This might be the fastest I’ve ever packed, you know.”

Finn spreads his fingers across the back of Puck’s head and pulls it closer, rocking his hips forward slightly. “Oh my god, that feels _so_ awesome,” Finn says. 

Puck would grin if he could do more than curve the corners of his mouth slightly, and he moves his mouth on Finn, flattening his tongue against the underside of Finn’s cock. He runs his thumb along Finn’s cock and then tightens his hand around Finn. 

Finn squeaks suddenly, and his other hand moves to the back of Puck’s head, too. There’s a low laugh from Kurt. “Oh, he likes to have his nipples played with, baby. Think I’ll do that again.” 

“Talking about me,” Finn says, then makes the squeaking noise again, “like I’m not,” another squeak, “here. _Fuck_ , Kurt!”

Puck moves his mouth faster on Finn, and above his head, he hears Kurt giggle. “Then shut me up, darling.”

Puck can hear the soft sound of their lips meeting, and then after a moment, a muffled moan. He tightens both of his hands, almost involuntarily, and wraps his tongue around Finn’s cock, taking Finn as far into his mouth as he possibly can. Puck can hear Finn moaning and whimpering into Kurt’s mouth, the sounds slightly muffled, Finn’s hands tightening on the back of Puck’s head. 

Finn’s cock is starting to leak into Puck’s mouth, and there are muffled, desperate squeaks accompanying Puck’s movements on Finn. A louder, still muffled sound almost echoes around them and then Finn comes in Puck’s mouth, his hips rolling forward. 

“Holy shit, Puck,” Finn says after a moment. Puck grins as moves back slightly, then kisses Finn’s stomach a few inches above his cock, then looks up and smirks. Finn looks down at Puck and laughs softly, running his hands over Puck’s head a few more times. “You look smug.”

“Should I not be?” 

“No, you totally should,” Finn says. “Just thought you oughta know the look your face is making.”

“Some of us usually know those things,” Puck shrugs, still smirking. “We should help K finish so we can go to bed.”

“We should just pack Kurt in the suitcase,” Finn says. “Then he can’t get away.”

“I wasn’t exactly planning on going anywhere,” Kurt cuts in, raising his eyebrows. “I think I’d rather be in a seat than in cargo, too.”

“Mmm, you can sit in my seat,” Finn says. “You can both sit in my seat with me.”

“Now you really sound stoned,” Puck laughs, standing up slowly. “K, we should get him in bed for sure.”

“Yes we should,” Kurt agrees. “Just one more suitcase. Hand me those four stacks?”

Finn picks up the stacks and starts handing them to Kurt. Kurt takes them with a little shake of his head and puts them in the last suitcase, then looks around the room. 

“That everything?” Puck asks. 

“Except for what we need to add in the morning.” Kurt shrugs and starts to pull off his clothes, turning off the overhead light. 

“You think I oughta…” Finn trails off. 

“Climb into bed now?” Puck finishes. “Take your jeans off your ankles first?”

Finn snorts and kicks off his jeans. “Asshole,” he mutters, but he climbs into bed. 

“Yeah, poor Finn,” Puck agrees, taking off his own clothes. 

“As long as you’re back in your room by six or so…” Kurt shrugs. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Ok. Yeah, that sounds good,” Finn says. Finn moves to one side of the bed, and Puck climbs in next, tugging a little on the pillow under Finn’s head with a smirk. Finn lifts his head enough for the pillow to move, and once Puck is settled onto the bed, Finn sprawls across him like some kind of Finnblanket. 

Kurt finishes doing something with his phone—probably setting the alarm—and then sets it on the bedside table before lying down and turning off the lamp. “Okay,” Kurt sighs. “I think we’re good.”

“You’re always good,” Finn says, his mouth against Puck’s neck. Puck tilts his head a little and closes his eyes as he wraps his arm around Kurt’s waist. 

“We’re all either very good or very bad,” Puck agrees. 

“I can’t believe it’s finally Nationals,” Finn says, still talking directly into Puck’s neck. “If I wake up at three in the morning freaking out, just smack me and make me go back to sleep, ok?”

Puck grins as Kurt giggles. “Darling,” Kurt says. “There are far better things to do at 3 am.”

“Yeah, but Puck’s got his test in the morning. He has to get _some_ sleep.”

“Sleeping now,” Puck says quickly. “Really.”

“Sleeping is good,” Finn says. He kisses Puck on the side of his neck, then the back of his neck. “Sleep now.”

“Night,” Puck says softly. 

“Night, baby. Night, darling.”

“Night, the both of you.”

 

“You know, boys,” Burt says, as he’s herding the three of them into the Nav, “it’s not like you didn’t know you were gonna have to pack for New York. You could have done it earlier instead of waiting until midnight.”

Finn curls up against the Nav door, clutching his coffee and grumbling something that would probably get him in trouble if he said it loud enough for Burt to hear him. “Other things took precedence,” Kurt says somewhat stiffly, taking a sip from his own coffee, and Puck is glad Burt can’t really see him smirking. 

As Burt’s backing out of the driveway, the Nav hits a bump and Finn’s head whacks against the door. Finn responds with a whining noise, and by turning and curling up against Puck instead. “I hate this day,” Finn says. 

“We can sleep on the bus. Or the plane. Or both.” Puck pauses. “Maybe definitely both. Also coffee.”

Finn takes a sip of his coffee without undraping himself from Puck’s shoulder. “Both. Also maybe in class later.”

Burt glances at Finn in the rearview mirror. “That’s just sad, Finn. I swear.”

“It does make more sense to sleep here than in New York,” Kurt says, seemingly mildly. 

“We have _thiiiings_ to do in New York,” Finn whines. “Need to sleep nowww.”

“It’s true,” Puck agrees. 

The remaining couple minutes of the drive are only punctuated by the sound of Finn dramatically slurping his coffee in some kind of protest, then they’re pulling up in front of the school. 

“You boys each got your suitcase?” Burt asks.

“One suitcase, one carry on for each of us,” Kurt says calmly. “We all have a toothbrush, our phone chargers, and clean socks.”

“And underwear,” Finn says. “I lost mine, then I found them, and now they’re packed.”

“Well, okay then,” Burt says. “You boys have a safe trip. Check in with us when you land.”

“Oh, we won’t forget,” Kurt assures him, climbing out and then opening the back. “Thanks for taking her back home, Dad. I just didn’t want to leave her in the lot all week.”

“No problem, kiddo. Love you, oh, and break a leg or whatever it is I’m supposed to tell you guys,” Burt says. 

Kurt walks back up to the front and smiles. “Love you too, Dad. Have a nice quiet week!”

The Nav pulls away from the curb and Finn leans on Puck. “I’m so tired.”

“Fewer kisses?” Kurt teases, leading the way towards the choir room. 

“Later morning?” Finn counters. “Not having to switch beds?”

“Probably more enjoyable.” Puck frowns as they walk through the mostly–empty halls, and he remembers why they’re so early. “Fuck, I’m insane.”

“You’re going to do fine.” Kurt pauses. “And you’re more awake than Finn, so there’s that, too.”

“Everybody’s more awake than me.”

“Isn’t hard to do,” Puck nods. They put their luggage underneath the bulletin board and Puck frowns. 

Kurt steps close beside him and slides his arm around Puck’s shoulders. “No one should be here for at least another five or ten minutes,” he points out. “We should really make sure you’ve got plenty of good luck.”

“Or kisses,” Finn says. “I’m too tired to figure out how to give you any good luck, but I can do kisses.”

“Seems like maybe kisses would be good luck,” Puck says, smirking slowly. “I’m willing to be a test subject for that.”

“Are you?” Kurt grins and puts his lips against Puck’s, kissing him softly before pulling back and then repeating the movement. He leans his head against Puck’s shoulder, still smiling. 

“Definitely.”

“Well, here, we’ll see if it works,” Finn says, and he bends to give Puck a kiss, too, the tip of his tongue flickering across Puck’s lips. 

Puck grins and slings an arm around both of them. “You think I could convince whoever the proctor is that for my break, I actually need you two to come down here and give me kisses?”

“Depends on who the proctor is,” Kurt says wryly. 

“I don’t even know what a proctor is,” Finn says, “but if he agrees, you can just text me, ok?”

“Okay,” Puck laughs. He points to the small room off the choir room. “They’re sticking me in there, for whatever reason.”

“Well, then I’ll know where to look if you text me,” Finn says. “That’s cool.”

“Unique study break,” Kurt giggles. “We’ll see you back here, baby. Be good.”

Puck grins. “We are none of us good.”

“Speak for yourself, asshole. I’m an angel,” Finn say, draping his arm across Kurt’s shoulders. 

“Fallen angel,” Puck retorts, walking over to the room he’ll be in for a few hours. “Asshole.”

 

Finn keeps his arm across Kurt’s shoulders as the two of them walk through the halls in the direction of Kurt’s first period class, which still isn’t for another half an hour or so. When they pass by the bathroom, Finn changes course, and ends up nearly dragging Kurt in with him.

“Finn!” Kurt protests. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing!” Finn says, as he keeps hauling Kurt along with him into the handicap stall, latching the door behind them, then pushing Kurt against the back wall, Finn’s mouth already pressing against Kurt’s. 

Kurt startles and then relaxes slowly, putting his arms around Finn’s neck and starting to respond to the kiss, his lips parted. Finn pushes his tongue inside Kurt’s mouth and runs one hand down his chest and stomach. Kurt’s arms tighten a little and he presses against Finn’s hand, still kissing Finn. 

Finn slides his hand a little lower, his fingertips slipping under the waistband of Kurt’s jeans. He stops kissing Kurt long enough to ask, “Is it ok if I touch you?”

“Yes,” Kurt says immediately. “ _Yes_ ,” he repeats. 

Finn exhales and says, “Awesome,” bringing his other hand to the button of Kurt’s jeans and unfastening them, unzipping the zipper and pushing one hand into Kurt’s underwear, leaning back down to kiss him at the same time that he’s running his palm over Kurt’s cock. Kurt moves his hips, pushing his cock against Finn’s hand. He’s already so hard, and Finn wraps his fingers around Kurt’s cock, which is more difficult at this angle than Finn expected. 

Kurt moves again, this time almost thrusting into Finn’s hand as his tongue pushes into Finn’s mouth. Finn starts moving his hand in time with Kurt’s thrusts, kissing him harder and pressing him back against the wall a little more insistently. He kisses Kurt across his cheek and jaw, then down his neck, hand still moving up and down on Kurt’s cock. “Oh god, Finn,” Kurt whispers. “God, I want…”

“What do you want?” Finn asks, his lips against Kurt’s throat. 

“Ohh, fuck, darling, I want…” Kurt pauses again. “I want you, your mouth.”

“Oh, _fuck_ , yes, yeah, I can do that, yes.” Finn realizes he’s sort of just saying a string of words that aren’t actually connected to each other. 

“Yeah?” Kurt says. “Yes?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Finn says, firmly. He tugs Kurt’s jeans and underwear down past his hips, and just tries to focus on how awesome it’ll be to make Kurt feel good, instead of the fact that he’s got absolutely no idea what he’s doing. 

“Ohh,” Kurt exhales quietly. “Ohh, darling, please, your lips, everything.”

Finn nods his head once and then slowly drops to his knees in front of Kurt, his hand still curled around Kurt’s cock. He gives Kurt one nervous upward glance before he leans forward and experimentally runs his tongue across the head of Kurt’s cock. Kurt’s breath hitches just a little, his body barely moving forward towards Finn. Finn lets his mouth open, his lips just barely touching Kurt’s cock, then he moves his head forward a little, feeling Kurt’s cock slide against his lips and tongue. 

Kurt almost whines, and his hands are in Finn’s hair, tightening and tangling in it. “Yes, oh god, Finn.”

Finn moves his mouth further down Kurt’s cock, which is more complicated than he’d have thought, mainly because of figuring out how to breathe while he’s doing it. Kurt is making a steady stream of soft noises that might resemble words, but aren’t really decipherable. Finn finally takes as much of Kurt into his mouth as he can, moving his lips and tongue over Kurt’s cock as best as he can manage. It’s weird, yeah, but it’s also pretty awesome, the way it makes Kurt make those noises and twist his fingers in Finn’s hair. Finn wraps one hand around the base of Kurt’s cock and uses the other to steady himself by holding on to Kurt’s hip. 

Finn lets his eyes close and just focuses on how Kurt’s cock feels and tastes, and the sounds he’s making, when there’s a burst of laughter and the scraping sound of the bathroom door being pushed open. Finn freezes, and Kurt goes completely quiet. He can hear talking and the sink running, then the door opens again and the bathroom is silent. Finn looks up at Kurt for some sort of indication as to what’s gonna happen now, because maybe Finn should stop and maybe he should keep going, but either way, Kurt probably needs to make the call here.

One of Kurt’s hands starts slowly petting Finn’s head, almost smoothing his hair, and then Kurt moves Finn’s head just a little as the fingers on Kurt’s other hand tighten again. Finn feels like any sort of worrying about what to do now just evaporates, and he closes his eyes again, letting Kurt move his head. “Oh, darling,” Kurt breathes. “Feels so goood.”

That’s what Finn wants, to make Kurt feel good, so he tries moving his head a little faster, working his mouth a little further down Kurt’s cock, moving his hand from Kurt’s hip to wrap his arm around Kurt’s lower back. Kurt’s fingers are pulling at Finn’s hair, tugging Finn closer. Kurt starts to hum very quietly, his hips rocking. 

Finn’s pretty sure he’s figured out what the humming means, and that’s confirmed pretty quickly, when Kurt’s hips start moving forward more and then Kurt is coming in Finn’s mouth. Kurt yanks once on Finn’s hair, hard, as he comes, and it’s all strangely sexy, more than Finn would have ever thought it would be. He swallows around Kurt, feeling Kurt’s grip on his hair relax finally, and then pulls back, carefully letting Kurt’s cock slide out of his mouth.

“Was that ok?”

Kurt giggles, petting Finn’s head. “It was definitely okay, darling. Come up here.”

Finn stands up, surprised to find himself a bit shaky and not terribly surprised to realize he’s also really turned on. Kurt puts an arm around Finn’s neck and pulls him close, kissing him softly. Finn kisses him back and does what he thinks is a pretty good job of resisting the urge to push Kurt back against the wall again and grind against him until the bell rings. 

“Good?” Kurt asks quietly. 

Before Finn can catch himself, he’s saying, “Want to fuck you against this wall.” Kurt draws his breath in, his body tensing slightly, and Finn winces. “Sorry. Shit, shouldn’t have said that. Sorry, Kurt.”

“No,” Kurt says quickly. “No. Just, um. Same principle as the other night.”

Finn has no clue what Kurt means, so he just says, “Oh. Ok.”

“Mentioning things that can’t happen at that particular time.”

“Oh. _Oh_ , ok, yeah,” Finn says. “Sorry, Kurt.” He buries his face in Kurt’s hair for a minute and just breathes. “It’s true, though,” he adds, finally.

Kurt’s fingers run through his hair and Kurt nods a little. “Class, unfortunately, darling.”

“Yeah, I don’t guess I can skip after two days of suspension, huh?”

“Not so much, no. And we’re going to be gone for three days.” Kurt releases Finn with a kiss pressed to Finn’s cheek, then fastens his jeans and straightens out his clothes. 

“Yeah, but they’re gonna be an awesome three days,” Finn says. “But yeah. Class. Stupid class.”

“Yes.” Kurt wrinkles his nose. “Math. Why I can’t answer my exam questions with ‘I would ask Puck’, I don’t know.”

“I think ‘phone a friend’ is a perfectly good answer to something,” Finn says. “I mean, I call you or text you for answers to stuff all the time, so they can’t say that’s not realistic.”

“Precisely.” 

“Well, should we?” Finn jerks his head towards the door. “Before I change my mind and make you skip with me or something, and then you fail and I get, I dunno, in some kind of terrible trouble.”

“We should. Also, because I’m starting to remember that this is a bathroom and it smells a bit rancid.”

“Yeah, I was mostly just smelling you, and that was nice,” Finn says. “Not so much the rest of it in here. Maybe bathrooms aren’t the best place.”

“Probably not,” Kurt agrees, unlocking the stall door and glancing in the mirror. 

“Do I look like somebody who didn’t just, uh, do that in a bathroom stall?” Finn asks, also looking at himself in the mirror. “’Cause Mrs. Vey’s cool and all, but.”

Kurt laughs. “Yes. She does seem to be. You look fine, though.”

“Yeah, you, too.”

“Why thank you.” Kurt smirks and opens the door, stepping into the hallway and turning to his left. Finn gives Kurt his biggest, toothiest grin and offers him an arm. Kurt keeps smirking and takes it with a laugh. Finn raises and lowers his eyebrows at Kurt a few times before taking off down the hall towards Kurt’s class. 

Right as they’re getting to Kurt’s classroom, this short, kinda stocky guy who’s leaning on the wall near the door gives Kurt a look and starts to say “Morning fa—” before interrupting himself when Finn gives him a death glare. Finn keeps on death–glaring at the guy and Kurt lets go of Finn’s arm, smiling and waving as he walks into his class. Finn gives the stocky guy one more good, threatening death–glare before turning to walk to his own first period class.

Finn is still scowling a little when he gets to the classroom, though he does at least try to give Mrs. Vey a polite smile. She _is_ pretty cool, after all. “It’s nice to see you back, Mr. Hudson. I trust Mr. Puckerman passed along the papers I gave him?”

“Yep! Thanks!” Finn says. Even with his detour by the bathroom and then Kurt’s class, he’s still one of the first people in class, so Finn sits down and lays his head on his desk. 

“Hey, dude,” Sam’s voice greets him a few minutes later. 

“Hey,” Finn says, without actually lifting his head from his desk. He’d sort of forgotten for a little while how tired he is, but now he remembers, and it possibly sucks even more now. “So tired, dude.”

“Yeah? I thought that was why we didn’t practice long. And left Pat’s when we did.” Sam sounds confused. “Of course, I got a phone call at 6 this morning from Mercedes, but.”

“Packing took longer than I thought,” Finn says. “I couldn’t find my underwear.”

“I guess that is important,” Sam says. 

“Especially if I’m gonna be dancing,” Finn says. “That would _not_ be pretty.”

“Is Finn asleep?” Brittany asks. Finn’s not even sure when she got there. 

“I’m talking,” Finn says.

“People talk in their sleep. ’Tana talks in Spanish in her sleep. Also, sometimes she quotes _Fight Club_ in her sleep, too.”

“I have weird friends,” Sam says. “Really weird friends.”

“Yeah, well, life’s just weird like that,” Finn says. “Roll with it. You’ll be happier.”

“Hmm.” Sam sounds thoughtful. “Maybe so.”

“I’m good at rolling,” Brittany says. “That’s why I’m joining the circus.”

“You’ll be good at the circus, I think,” Sam says. “Should be fun, anyway.” There’s a pause. “Send me a message, you know? You aren’t really going to be that far away from Baton Rouge.”

“I’ll do that! You can come watch me hang by my teeth from the trapeze and then we’ll go have tapas!” Brittany says. 

“Sure,” Sam agrees, even though it sounds like he has no clue what ‘tapas’ might be, either.

“Uh, yeah, I think it’s just better if we stay friends, Britt,” Finn says, shaking his head. “You can meet somebody nice in Florida for, you know, _tapas_ -ing with.”

“I thought ‘tapas’ were some kind of alcohol!” Sam says.

“I thought it was some kind of really bendy sex thing,” Finn confesses, lowering his voice so Britt can’t hear. 

“Who knows?” Sam whispers. 

Mrs. Vey starts talking about World War II then, and Finn puts his head back down on his desk. It’s probably good that Puck’s gonna be skipping this week, because probably _Schindler’s List_ is enough World War II for anybody in a year. That’s pretty much the last that Finn thinks about World War II, in fact, because then he dozes off. 

 

Santana cuts it close, sitting down next to Kurt just as the bell rings to start the day. “Nearly killed myself on my luggage,” she mutters. “I can’t believe we have to go to three classes first.”

“I technically only have to attend two,” Kurt says primly. 

“Yeah, great.” Santana snorts. “You’re looking strangely peppy.”

“I’m not,” Kurt argues, and his argument is, in fact, bolstered by the giant yawn that accompanies it. “Someone had to do the packing.”

“Yeah, that’s why I said _strangely_.” 

Kurt rolls his eyes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Mmm. I’m sure.”

Consumer math is something ridiculous about mortgages, and Kurt’s not sure that people can afford to actually buy someplace versus renting, not in New York, so maybe he doesn’t really need to know all of this. And if he does, like he told Finn – that’s what Puck’s for. One of the many things. 

Physics is strange. He reminds the teacher that Puck has his AP exam, and then sits on his usual stool, very conscious of the empty stool beside him. His leg bounces a little and about ten minutes into the lecture Kurt gives up trying to pay attention and pulls out his iPad, using it to waste time: check their flight status (on time); review their route from LaGuardia to the hotel; request that the hotel set up individual rooms plus the lobby and the fitness center as places to check in on foursquare; and then looks through the current issue of _GQ_ , though he has to remind himself not to play any of the videos since technically he is still in class. 

When physics is thankfully over, Kurt goes to the choir room instead of sitting in English doing nothing, which means that when Puck is done at 10:30, he’ll already be there. He puts in his earbuds and _does_ watch a few videos before amusing himself by watching all the videos he can find of both Zachary and Victoria’s respective show choirs. 

 

Ms. P ends up being the proctor for Puck’s exam, which he probably should have guessed, and he holes up in the little room with the fucking exam. It’s close enough to what he expected from the sample questions and everything, which means that some of it is a pain in the ass, but it’s not stressful like Puck was afraid of. His ten-minute break falls during the middle of second period, and since it really is the middle of class, Puck just goes outside into the choir room and drinks a bottle of water and eats half a bar of chocolate. He gets Ms. P to start the next section of the test as soon as he’s ready, because why wait around another three or four minutes he doesn’t need. 

When he finally finishes, Ms. P collects the exam and the paperwork and all of that, and Puck walks out into the choir room, grinning when he sees Kurt watching something on his iPad. The choir room is practically covered in luggage; Puck has to wonder who brought more than one suitcase and a carry-on. Well, some of it’s clearly their costumes and stuff, but still. It’s a lot of luggage. 

Puck walks over and sits down next to Kurt, bumping his shoulder once. Kurt turns and grins, pulling out his earbuds. “How’d it go?”

“Better than I thought it might.” Puck puts his head down on Kurt’s shoulder, glancing at the clock. At least twenty minutes before anyone should bother them. “What’re you watching?”

“I found Zachary’s glee club’s performance videos. Victoria’s, too, but this is one of Zachary’s. I already spent physics looking at everything related to traveling plus my GQ issue. Oh, except for the weather.” Kurt snorts. “Why did Mr. Schue insist we had to wait until after third period to leave?”

“Torture, clearly.” Puck shrugs. 

“Probably.” Kurt looks around for a moment and lowers his voice. “Our Finn’s proving a bit more adventurous than we might have thought.”

“Yeah?” Puck decides he’s tired and this sounds like a good story, so he stretches out across a few chairs, putting his head in Kurt’s lap. “How so?”

“He pulled me into the bathroom on the way to first period,” Kurt says, smirking. 

Puck chuckles. “Yeah, definitely more adventurous than we would have thought!” 

“Mmmhmm.” Kurt leans over and kisses Puck softly. “We’re going home, baby.”

“Yeah we are.” Puck grins. “This is going to be awesome.”

Tina and Mike show up next, before the end of third period, and Schue walks in as soon as the bell rings. “Oh, great, already here!” He’s beaming, himself. “Ready to get this show on the road? Grab your luggage, and if you have an extra hand, grab one of the costume bags.” He’s talking a little bit too fast, like he forgot to take his Ritalin or something. 

“Uh, Mr. Schue?” Mike says. “Shouldn’t we wait on the other _eight_ of us?”

“No! Don’t leave yet! I hurried here from English!” Rachel wails as she runs into the room. “I’ll grab all my bags now, just wait on me!”

“Oh, right, right,” Schue nods, looking flustered. “I’ll just— Puck, you have all the travel details still?”

Puck nods, holding up his backpack. “Right here.”

“Good grief,” Santana says as she and Brittany walk in. “Who brought so much luggage?”

Rachel looks up from where she’s transferring something from her backpack into a bright pink carry-on. “I only brought my suitcase and my garment bag, and of course my carry-on bags here!” She picks up another piece of bright pink luggage. “I wanted to be sure to have enough room for everything.”

“It’d be nice if there was enough room for all of us on the bus,” Santana snorts. 

“I only have my suitcase and my backpack,” Mike offers, and beside him, Tina nods. 

“My suitcase is huge, though!” Tina admits. 

“Well, I just wasn’t sure,” Rachel says, sniffing a little.

“So, who’s ready to go to New York?” Finn asks from the doorway, a little too loudly, before flinging himself into the seat next to Puck, one arm across the back of Puck’s chair and his fingers grazing Kurt’s shoulder. 

“Not Berry,” Santana says with a snort. “She’s playing musical luggage with her gold star stickers.”

“Yeah, ok,” Finn says, like he’s not particularly concerned with Rachel and her luggage. “How was your test?” he asks Puck. 

“Musical,” Puck snorts. “Not as bad as I thought it might be.”

“I bet you kicked its ass,” Finn says. 

“Wanky,” Puck can hear Santana mutter. 

Schue looks impatiently at the door for the next two minutes, until everyone’s jammed between the piles of luggage filling the choir room and it actually is time to grab their luggage and go to the bus. “Okay, everyone! New York City or bust!” Schue announces. 

“Alright, everybody,” Finn says. “Gather up your stuff and yourselves and let’s go get on that bus and… then, I dunno, maybe all take a nap or something. I think I’ll try again for a big speech when we’re boarding. I got nothing right now.” 

Puck snorts as he slings his duffel bag over his shoulder, and they head out to the bus in a clump. He and Kurt manage to push their way to the front of the group, which means they grab the farthest back seat that’s not got costumes wedged in it. Finn flops into the seat directly in front of them, sitting with his back against the window and his legs hanging out into the aisle. Finn’s head leans back over the seat and after everyone starts to settle in, Kurt and Puck both start running a hand through his hair. Finn makes a happy noise that’s like the human version of a purr and closes his eyes. By the time they go through Waynesfield, Finn is asleep, and it seems like many of the others are, too. 

“Want to sleep now or on the plane?” Kurt whispers. 

“Mmm. Now, I guess.” Puck lets his hand drop from Finn’s hair and leans against Kurt’s shoulder. Kurt wraps an arm around him, nodding. 

“Sleep,” Kurt says. “You want to wake up when we stop or a little before?”

Puck closes his eyes. “Before.”

Kurt shaking him awake gently is the next thing that Puck registers, and he yawns and stretches. “Almost there?”

“About ten minutes, I think. Rachel’s the only other one who’s stayed awake, and I think she’s running on pure adrenaline.”

Puck snorts. “Probably. What time is it?”

“Ten ’til one.”

“At least we’re more or less on time.” Puck reaches up and flicks Finn’s head. 

“Asshole,” Finn whines. “Are we there?”

“Almost, asshole,” Puck retorts cheerfully. “Hungry?”

“I’m always hungry,” Finn says. “What time is it?”

“Close enough to one. Flight’s at two.”

“Did you guys get any sleep?” Finn rubs his eyes. 

“I did, K stayed awake. We’ll switch on the plane.”

“Ok, that’s cool. That way if I don’t sleep any more, you’ll be awake to talk to me,” Finn says. 

The bus starts to slow down then, and Schue kneels in his seat, facing backwards. “Okay, guys. Grab your own luggage and carry-ons, and let’s get checked in with the airline. Once we get to our concourse, we’ll grab some lunch.”

There’s some low grumbling and more stretching, and after they all pile off the bus, Sam, Finn, and Mike are loaded up with the costumes and whatever else is in the extra luggage. Checking their baggage takes longer than it should, thanks to the extra bags that Rachel and Mercedes brought. It’s only thirty-five minutes before their flight when they reach their concourse, and Kurt volunteers to stand in line for food for the three of them. Puck heads towards the Starbucks, because they’ll need coffee, too.

Finn says, “Oh, I’ll be right back!” and heads in the other direction. Puck shrugs and waits in the relatively short line before joining Kurt just as their food is ready. 

“The real question is, is everyone going to finish eating before they start boarding our flight,” Puck says, opening up his hamburger. 

“Another reason they should have let us leave earlier?”

Finn rejoins them at their gate, carrying a full plastic sack. “I got us supplies.”

Puck grins. “I didn’t know they sold lube at the airport.”

Finn’s face turns red, but he cracks a grin. “Not that kind of supplies.” 

“What _did_ you get? And we already have those kind of supplies.”

Finn starts unpacking the plastic sack, pulling out six bottles of water, three bottles of pop, a few different chocolate bars, two small bags of BBQ chips, a bag of pretzels, a package of Sour Patch Kids, and two different flavors of gum. “All the important stuff!”

“We definitely need to do a weekend road trip this summer. You’re in charge of supplies. K can drive, and I’ll navigate.”

“Where should we go?” Kurt tilts his head. “North? South?”

“We should go to the beach,” Finn says. “Any beach. I don’t even care what beach. Something with white sand.”

“I’ll Google,” Puck says, shrugging. “ ‘Beaches with white sand in the US’ or something.”

“You should totally Google _nude_ beaches,” Finn says. 

“I don’t think the satellite view is that good,” Kurt says calmly. “I doubt they have street view for the nude beaches, either.”

“Nah, I don’t need to look at ’em or anything,” Finn says. “It would just be cool to know where they are, so I can be all, yeah, I know some nude beaches. You need one? ’Cause I know how to find it.”

“You know, there’s probably an app for that.”

“Asshole,” Finn says, good-naturedly. 

“You like that.”

Finn turns a little red again and ducks his head, but he mutters, “Well, yeah.”

“We are going to get ourselves in _so_ much trouble,” Kurt murmurs. “So much.”

“Now boarding Flight 76304. Flight 76304 non-stop to LaGuardia is now boarding our coach passengers. Please present your boarding pass to the flight attendant at the gate.” The loudspeaker crackles and the announcement is repeated, and Puck crumples up his hamburger wrapper and stands with a sigh. 

“Guess that’s our cue.” He pulls all the boarding passes out of his backpack and hands Kurt and Finn both theirs before starting to pass them out to the others. 

“Next stop New York!” Tina exclaims as she accepts hers. 

“Remember that we’re representing McKinley!” Schue says over all of their chatter. “Be polite to the attendants and fellow passengers!”

“I’m known for my politeness,” Finn says. “Ask around.”

“Right, well, continue that, then, Finn,” Schue responds, looking confused. “Everyone knows which seats they’re in, correct?”

“Yeah, we got it, Mr. Schue,” Puck answers. “Really. You’re in 24C and we have seats A, B, and C in rows 25–28, at the back of the plane.”

“Oh. Right.” Schue looks down at his boarding pass. “Yes, 24C. Let’s go guys!” He leads the way to the gate, and Puck, Kurt, and Finn follow him, the rest of them trailing behind. 

The flight attendants and the other passengers look a little chagrined at the twelve of them streaming onto the plane, but they settle in without anyone doing any more than glaring. Kurt asks for a pillow and curls up against the window even before they start to take off, his hand resting on Puck’s leg. 

“Excuse me,” Finn says, snagging one of the flight attendants. “Could we get a couple of blankets? I know it’s the middle of the day and everything, but my brother’s so tired and he gets cold really easy.” He gives the flight attendant a broad smile, and she smiles back and actually touches her neck a little before hurrying off, returning with a stack of blankets for Finn. “Thanks!” Finn says to her, smile even wider this time. He hands one of the blankets to Puck and then unrolls another one, leaning across Puck to drape it over Kurt.

Puck snorts in amusement but doesn’t complain, shaking the blanket out over himself. It _is_ cold on the airplane and who knows why that is. He can hear Mike and Sam in front of them talking about whether or not there will be pretzels, and smirks. _They_ should have had a Finn to get plenty of snacks. 

 

The plane is rolling down the runway when Finn decides, fuck it, and unrolls his own blanket over himself and then slides his hand under Puck’s blanket to rest on his thigh. Puck glances over at him and raises one eyebrow just slightly. Finn responds with his best innocent face, which might be more convincing if he didn’t follow it by moving his hand a little higher up Puck’s leg as the plane starts picking up speed. 

“Hi, darling,” Puck whispers. 

“Hey,” Finn whispers back. “Take-off and landing make me so nervous.” 

“That’s a shame. Have to figure out a way to fix that.”

Finn sort of kneads his fingers into the soft part of Puck’s thigh. “This is helpful.”

“Yeah?” Puck grins and slides his hand over the top of Finn’s. “Glad to be of service.”

The plane tips up on its back wheels and Finn does probably grip Puck’s thigh a little too tightly as they suddenly leave the runway. He chews furiously on his piece of gum, as much for the weird feeling in his stomach as the plane goes up into the air as for the change of pressure. “Good distraction.”

“A distraction, is that all I am?” Puck is trying to look wounded or something, but he’s grinning more than anything. 

The corner of Finn’s mouth goes up into a smile like he can’t even help it. “Yeah, that’s totally all you are,” he says. He moves his hand higher on Puck’s thigh, until his fingers are close enough to brush across the front of Puck’s jeans. 

“Beginning to think Kurt’s been teaching you about teasing.”

“Nah, it’s like that thing he always says,” Finn says, leaning a little closer to Puck’s ear. “The thing about following through.”

“Like I said.” Puck shifts in his seat. “Think he’s been teaching you.”

“Yes. Lots of stuff. Very important stuff,” Finn says. He lowers his voice even more and asks, “Is it ok if I touch you?”

Puck exhales and nods. “Yeah.” He moves his hand from off the top of Finn’s and his legs fall open slightly. Finn takes that as an invitation to slide his hand to the front of Puck’s jeans, palming his cock through the denim, moving his hand and squeezing the slightest bit. Puck bites his lip and nods again. 

Finn slowly undoes the button and then the zipper on Puck’s jeans, pushing his hand inside to wrap around Puck’s cock through his underwear. Puck shifts his weight, his hips pushing towards Finn’s hand. “Is that good?” Finn whispers.

“Yes,” Puck hisses under his breath, nodding. Finn hooks his thumb in the waistband of Puck’s underwear and pulls, Puck lifting his hips a little so Finn can slide the underwear out of the way. Once he’s moved Puck’s clothes around, Finn wraps his fingers around Puck’s cock and starts moving his hand in slow, firm strokes.

“Better?” Finn asks. Puck nods, his breathing a little shallow. “Sucks I can’t kiss you,” Finn adds. 

“Yeah,” Puck agrees quietly. “It does.”

“Sneak to the bathroom?” Finn suggests, moving his hand a little faster. “Isn’t there, like, a club for that or something?”

Puck lets out a short bark of laughter before he bites his lip again. “Think so,” he says after a moment. “Are we really a mile high?”

“I have no idea,” Finn says, shaking his head and leaning as close to Puck as he can without actually being _on_ him, which might sort of call some attention to them. “I like this. Touching you. I like it.”

“Oh. Yeah, me too,” Puck whispers. 

“When we’re in New York, I want,” Finn starts, then stops himself. He closes his fingers a little more tightly around Puck’s cock and moves his hand faster. “I want to put my mouth on you,” he says, in the quietest whisper he can manage. 

Puck whimpers, and that might not be the quietest noise. He nods a little. “Yeah, that’s good. Good.”

“I did that to Kurt today,” Finn says, his lips brushing against Puck’s ear as he talks. “Dragged him into the bathroom at school.”

“Yeah?” Puck moves his hips into Finn’s hand again. “Tell me?”

“Yeah. I pushed him against the wall, and then I got down on my knees in front of him,” Finn says. He knows he’s blushing, probably a lot, but he likes how Puck feels in his hand and how he moves as Finn’s telling him. “I undid his jeans and I just. I put my mouth on him.”

“I bet he liked that,” Puck says quietly, still moving against Finn’s hand. 

“I think so. I hope so,” Finn says. “ _I_ liked it. I liked it a lot. It’s kinda weird how much I liked it, but god, Puck, he tasted so good.”

Puck grins and nods. “Yeah, he does. Just like you do.”

“I want to taste you, too,” Finn says, his hand stroking Puck’s cock hard and fast. “Want to make you come for me, just like that.”

“Yeah. Yeah,” Puck nods, his voice quiet and his hips moving faster. Puck’s body curls up off the seat slightly, and he starts to come with a low whine escaping from his lips. Finn keeps moving his hand until Puck’s body relaxes, and then he realizes that the two of them are both kind of a mess. He wipes his hand on the blanket and grins at Puck.

“Think we kinda messed up the blanket,” Finn whispers. “Oops.”

“Better than my pants,” Puck hisses back. 

“I’ll mess up your pants if I want,” Finn says. “Whatcha gonna do about it?”

“Mess up yours.”

“Shouldn’t talk about stuff that you can’t do right now,” Finn says. “Isn’t that how it’s supposed to work?”

“Who says I can’t?” Puck smirks.

“I’m sitting on the _aisle_ ,” Finn points out. “Little more noticeable.”

Puck laughs. “Picky. Very picky.”

“Don’t want us to get thrown off the plane.”

“Luckily they wouldn’t be able to do it until we actually got to the City.”

“I should drag _you_ to the bathroom,” Finn says. “I think we’d both fit.”

“Like sardines, maybe,” Puck snorts. 

“We could make it work. We’re, like, creative or athletic or whatever.”

“Or whatever.” Puck nods and then raises an eyebrow. “Well?”

“Meet me back there in two minutes. Think spy or ninja,” Finn says, unbuckling his seatbelt and standing. He keeps his body turned away from the other side of the plane, because well, that would be embarrassing. 

“Gay or orange juice?” Puck whispers as he nods. 

“No rule against being both,” Finn answers, and he walks the six steps to the bathroom. He lets himself in, but doesn’t lock the door. It feels like way longer than two minutes before Puck slides the door open, shutting it and locking it behind himself. “That was longer than two minutes, dude.”

“I counted one-mississippi,” Puck argues.

“You say it too slow,” Finn says. 

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“Shut up and make me.”

“You talk too much,” Puck says, stepping closer and running one hand through Finn’s hair. “You know that?”

“Whatever, asshole. You love it,” Finn says, putting his arms around Puck and then pressing their mouths together. Puck’s mouth falls open, pushing back against Finn’s as Puck moves forward just enough to put Finn’s back to the wall. Puck’s mouth tastes like the mint gum Finn bought for him, and for some reason that makes Finn feel absurdly happy. He digs his fingers into the muscles of Puck’s back, pulling Puck’s body as tightly against his as he can. 

Puck’s fingers tug on Finn’s hair, moving his face at an angle while Puck’s other hand slides down Finn’s side. Puck’s tongue pushes into Finn’s mouth insistently, his body rocking against Finn’s. Finn makes a noise that’s not at all a whine, moving his body against Puck’s. The hand on Finn’s side slides between the two of them, pressing against Finn’s cock firmly and then moving up and down, and this time the noise Finn makes is definitely a whine.

He pulls his mouth away from Puck’s and practically growls, “Want to fuck you.”

“Fuck,” Puck says, shaking his head slightly. “S’in the suitcases. Not here.”

“I hate the fucking suitcases,” Finn says. “Want you.”

“ _Fuck_.”

“ _Yes_ , I _want_ to,” Finn says. “Fuck, Puck, want you against this stupid tiny sink.”

“Dammit.” Puck closes his eyes. “Want you, too.”

“How much time at the hotel before we have to be somewhere?”

“Three hours. Gotta eat dinner in those three hours though.”

“I can eat fast,” Finn says. “Don’t even have to eat. Pretzels or chips or something. I’ll be fine.”

Puck huffs out a short laugh. “We can manage something.”

“We didn’t plan this so great,” Finn says. “Fuck. Ok. No fucking you. Need a new plan.” He whines a little, because he’s so hard at this point, it’s bordering on painful. “I don’t want a new plan.”

“I know, darling,” Puck whispers, tucking his head against Finn’s neck. “I know.”

“Want you,” Finn says, and seriously, he probably couldn’t get any whinier at this point.

“How?” Puck asks. “Just tell me how.”

“I don’t knooow. Thinking is haaard.”

Puck starts to giggle, face still against Finn’s neck. 

“Stop it, asshole, it’s not funny!” Finn insists, but really it is pretty damn funny, and he starts laughing, too. “Ok, fine. It’s funny.”

“I know,” Puck says, still giggling. “You’re so whiny, darling.”

“You’d be whiny, too, if you were me,” Finn huffs. “Just put your hand in my pants already, will you?”

“Okay, okay.” Puck keeps laughing a little as he unfastens Finn’s jeans and slides one hand into Finn’s underwear, curling his fingers around Finn’s cock. “Better?”

“Yeah, better,” Finn says, closing his eyes and putting one hand out against the bathroom wall to keep himself from tripping backward over the tiny airplane toilet. Maybe too much time in bathrooms today, but it’s one of those take what you can get type things.

“Good.” Puck’s hand tightens a little on Finn, moving faster. “Think you can be quiet when you come?”

“Uh. Fuck. Yes? Maybe?” Finn says, then Puck moves his hand a little differently and Finn makes a noise, and he says, “Or no.”

Puck laughs again and puts his free hand around the back of Finn’s head, crushing their lips together, his hand still moving on Finn’s cock. With Puck’s mouth on his, Finn lets himself go, coming in Puck’s hand and moaning into his mouth. Puck keeps his hand moving until Finn is still, then pulls out his hand and slowly licks it. 

“Fuck,” Finn says in a low voice. 

“Better, darling?” Puck says quietly, kissing Finn softly.

“Yeah. We probably better go back to the seats, though. I think that flight attendant might come looking for me.”

“Your own fault,” Puck snorts, using the sink briefly. 

“Got us extra blankets, didn’t I?” Finn says. He readjusts his underwear and refastens his jeans. “There. I don’t look like we were just doing what we were doing, right?”

“Right,” Puck says, sounding amused. “You leave first.”

“And you’ll have to crawl over me to get into your seat, dude. _You_ leave first.”

“Thought you might like that part.”

“I go back first, I might just steal your seat,” Finn says. “Long as you’re ok with that.”

“You wouldn’t, ’cause you’d have to cut off your feet or something to fit in my seat.”

“I’ll just sit in both the seats, then,” Finn says. He leans over and gives Puck a kiss. “See you in a few, dude.” With that, he lets himself out of the tiny bathroom and walks the six steps back to their row, where he does, in fact, sit in the middle seat, only turned to the side so one leg is across the aisle seat and the other is sticking out across the floor. He leans his head back against sleeping Kurt and waits. 

When Puck comes back, he doesn’t say anything, just sits down on Finn’s lap with a smirk. Right then, the flight attendant from earlier comes rattling down the aisle with the drink cart. She looks at Puck sitting on Finn’s lap and shakes her head. “There you are!” she says. “You weren’t in your seat when I came by a few minutes ago.”

“We’re a show choir!” Finn says, because that seems like a perfectly reasonable response to make when someone’s sitting in his lap on an airplane. “Can I have ginger ale?”

“Ginger ale?” Puck snorts. “Really, dude?”

“What? I’ve got Pepsi in my bag. I don’t need another one of those!”

“Your mom’s pregnant, not you!”

Sam cranes his head around from the seats in front of them, and shakes his head when he looks at them. “You two.”

“Are you with them?” the flight attendant asks. “Show choir?”

Sam laughs and nods. “Yeah. You want us to sing?”

“I’ll pass, thanks,” she says, handing Finn his ginger ale. “Did you want something?” she asks Puck. 

“Do you have Pepsi Throwback?”

“Uh. No.” The flight attendant gives Puck a look like he’s crazy. “We have Coca-Cola products.”

“I’ll Pepsi Throwback _you_ ,” Finn mutters. “Ingrate.”

“Oh, well, in that case I’ll take a Fanta.” Puck grins at Finn. “Or a Mr. Pibb.”

“Well, we have Mr. Pibb, at least,” the flight attendant says, sounding like she can’t decide whether to be amused or annoyed. She hands Puck a can of Mr. Pibb and a cup with ice in it, then says, “You boys need to pick seats and go with them when the fasten seatbelt light comes on. We have policies.”

“We sure will!” Finn says, smiling at her. “Thanks!” She shakes her head and pushes the drink cart back up the aisle. Finn puts his chin on Puck’s shoulder. “Do you want your seat back?”

“Light’s not on yet.”

“Well, if you’re gonna sit on me, move a little to the left then,” Finn says. “It’s comfier.”

Puck shifts his weight with a smirk. “Well, you are a little… oddly shaped for a seat cushion. You might want to rethink that furniture major.”

“I’ll show you who’s oddly shaped,” Finn says, wiggling around in the seat underneath Puck so Puck is tossed around a little. “And I’m a kickass piece of furniture. Quit your bitching.”

“Please. I’m good at bitching.” Puck grins and shifts his weight again.

“Stop doing that or you’re gonna have to take me back to the bathroom again,” Finn says quietly. 

Puck just shakes his head slowly. “Nope. You can wait.”

“Asshole.”

“Mmmhmm.” Puck leans forward and puts his lips against Finn’s ear. “You just wish you were inside me.”

“Oh, _fuck_ , Puck,” Finn groans. “You can’t say stuff like that.” He leans back against Kurt again and closes his eyes. “So unfair,” he adds. 

“Life’s difficult,” Puck agrees, leaning his head against Finn near Kurt. “M’gonna sleep now.”

“Already on it, dude,” Finn says, and that’s the last thing he’s aware of until he hears Schue’s voice.

“Boys! Finn! Puck! Kurt! Boys, you need to… to. Sit up?”

“Hmm?” Finn says, opening his eyes a little. “We’re sleeping, Mr. Schue.”

“I don’t think you can adequately use the seatbelts for landing as you are.”

“What?” Kurt yawns. “Hi boys.” He yawns again. “Oh, hi Mr. Schue.”

“Kurt.” Schue sounds confused. “The three of you need to resume your assigned seats.”

“Kurt’s in his seat,” Finn says. “Puck’s in his seat, too, I’m just in between his butt and it.”

“Boys,” Kurt sighs. “ _Be good_.”

“I’m good,” Finn insists. “I was just napping!”

“Mmmhmm. Don’t worry, Mr. Schue, I’ll make them behave,” Kurt says dismissively. 

Schue blinks twice but then sort of nods and keeps walking to the bathroom or wherever he’s going. 

“Boys.” Kurt sounds more amused. “Have you been misbehaving?”

“Hey, Kurt,” Finn says, sitting up and making Puck have to move to keep from being pitched forward onto the floor. “We didn’t misbehave. Oh, don’t touch that one blanket, though,” he adds pointing to the one wadded up on the floor. “It’s got, uh. Stuff.”

“But you didn’t misbehave?”

“We didn’t _both_ misbehave,” Puck argues. “It was all Finn.”

“No way! First it was me, then it was you. Then it was you again!”

Kurt sighs. “Oh, you two.” He grins though. “Why don’t you tell me all about it later tonight?”

“Excellent.” Puck grins. “Naked story time?” he adds more quietly. 

“What’s naked story time?” Finn asks. “There’s a naked story time?”

“Mmmhmm. When we’re naked. And there’s a story. Naked story time.”

“That’s either really weird or really awesome,” Finn says. “I love you guys.”

“Generally it’s the latter,” Kurt answers. “You’ll see.”

 

It’s more or less chaos when they land; it takes about fifteen minutes longer than Puck thinks it should for all of them to grab their carry-ons and get to the right baggage carousels. As they’re exiting the plane, Finn says “Sorry about the blanket” to that flight attendant with a sheepish grin on his face, and she looks rather taken aback. 

“Why?” Puck hisses under his breath as they keep walking. 

“I didn’t want her to just pick it up or something,” Finn says. “It seemed rude.”

“I think you bypassed that particular concern a while ago,” Kurt comments. 

“It was messy,” Finn tries to explain, but Kurt stops him with a raised hand. 

When their flight’s luggage finally starts appearing, Finn grabs his own suitcase, then Kurt’s, and then Puck’s duffel bag, slinging the last over his shoulder, then hooks his smaller suitcase on top of Kurt’s larger, wheeled bag. It takes Rachel and Mercedes another five minutes to corral their luggage and head towards the taxi stand. 

They’re sorting out who will go in what taxi, and Rachel is protesting having to ride with Schue, when Mercedes tsks and shakes her head. “Finn, why are you carrying all of that luggage?”

“I needed enough changes of clothes to get me through the week,” Finn says.

“Finn Hudson, I know those aren’t all your bags,” Mercedes sighs. “And I do not know how you could possibly change clothes that often.”

“I learned from the master,” Finn says, shrugging that shoulder without the duffel bag on it. “And anyway, the bags are my job.”

“He lifts the heavy things,” Puck explains, except no one else but Kurt seems to understand that it’s an explanation.

Rachel keeps protesting having to ride with Schue, but he insists that since she’s the only one who is still under eighteen, she needs to be under supervision. Schue reminds them all which subway stop to direct their taxis to, and then climbs in, Rachel still complaining. 

They’re at least halfway to Manhattan when Kurt tilts his head and looks at Puck. “We should get married.”

“Uh.”

“We can! And Finn’s here.”

“Hannah’d kill me.”

“What?” Finn says. “No! You are _not_ allowed to get married on this trip.”

“Why not? Like I said, you’re here. There’s a twenty-four hour waiting period or something, but if we got the license today, we’d have plenty of time.”

“Dude! Your dad isn’t here. Burt would kill me. He would blame _me_. It would all somehow end up my fault, and he would kill me, and I’m not willing to die so you can just run off and have some random elopement,” Finn says. “Not happening. No way.”

“He won’t blame you. Why would he blame you?”

“Kurt,” Finn says. “They always blame me. How have you not noticed this?”

“Hmph.” Kurt sighs. “You’re such a party pooper. Maybe we’ll just do it without telling you. Or not warning ahead of time, anyway.”

Finn frowns. “I don’t think that’s very nice. In fact, I think that is definitely uncool. Don’t do that.”

“Fine.” Kurt exhales loudly. “It was just a thought.”

When they get to the subway stop, everyone scrambles out of their taxis, and before they can head towards their train, Finn announces, in a very loud voice, “Just so we’re clear. Nobody is allowed to get married on this trip. There will be NO marriages on my watch. None of your parents are here, and I am not taking the blame for your crazy, spontaneous marriages. Everybody just… just… NO MARRYING ANYBODY THIS WEEK!”

“Where did _that_ come from?” Tina asks. 

Finn points his finger at Tina. “I’ve got my eye on you two, too,” Finn says. “NO. Marrying.”

“Ooh! We can all get married here!” Brittany says. “That would be so fun!”

“No!” Finn repeats. “No marrying. Britt, no. No gay marriage, no straight marriage, no any kind of marriage on this trip. Everybody just… keep your marriage in your pants.”

There’s really not much to say in response to that, but once they’re squeezed onto the train headed towards their hotel, Puck whispers to Kurt. “That sort of sucked as a proposal, K.”

“Hmm. You’re right,” Kurt concedes after a moment. “I’ll do better next time. Maybe you’ll actually answer me next time.”

Puck grins. “I didn’t think you actually wondered about the answer.”

“Well, no. Not really.” Kurt turns towards Puck fully and smirks. “And I suppose we’ll be busy enough with other matters tomorrow.”

“Yeah, no sightseeing time, really. You printed out suggestions for everyone?”

Kurt laughs. “Sending them on the Circle Line.”

“You’re cruel. We’ll have to save Finn from it somehow.”

“He might actually like it.” Kurt pauses. “On the other hand, probably not.”

The walk to the hotel doesn’t take long from the subway stop, even if there’s some complaining about how far it is to walk. They round the corner and Puck grins when he spots Allison leaning against the columns in front of what looks like the hotel, at least according to the website photos and Google Streetview. 

Quinn elbows Mercedes and Puck can hear her say, “I think that girl looks familiar. Don’t you think so?”

Kurt must hear them, too, because he looks briefly at Allison and then over at Puck. “Noooaaaah. Do you know why Allison’s here?”

“Needed a favor,” Puck says with a shrug. 

“Still not calling him that,” Finn mutters under his breath. 

Allison spots the group of them and straightens with a wide grin. “Well hello there, Noah. Kurt.” She scans the rest of them. “Oh, and you must be the brother!” she says to Finn. 

“Yep. I’m the brother,” Finn agrees. “You’re the Allison.”

“You know who I am! This is great!”

“So do you have something for me?” Puck interrupts.

“I _do_ in fact have something for you,” Allison nods, digging into her bag. “I have thirteen pieces of paper for you!”

“What’s she talking about, Puck?” Quinn asks. “What’s she have for you?”

“Allison ran an errand of sorts for us.” Puck smirks and rummages through his backpack. “How much do we owe you, and which one did you get?”

“What we talked about, and what we talked about.” Allison smirks back. “I got myself one, too; still haven’t seen it.”

“Curtain’s at 7:30?”

“Eight.”

“You got _tickets_ ,” Kurt says. “What did you get?”

“Tickets? Tickets to _what_?” Mercedes looks confused. “What did she get tickets to?”

“A show, obviously,” Finn says. “Like, Broadway something, right?”

“We had enough,” Puck shrugs. “ _Rock of Ages_.”

“You know what song closes that one, don’t you?” Kurt says, starting to laugh. 

“I do!” Rachel pipes up, also laughing. 

“I don’t,” Finn says. “I have no idea what you’re even talking about, other than I know it’s a show and it’s on Broadway.”

“It’s a show that uses a lot of music from the ‘80s,” Kurt explains. “Including…”

Rachel laughs again. “ _Just a city boy, born and raised in south Detroit._ ”

Puck groans. “You’re kidding me.”

“Awesome!” Finn says. “Best musical ever!”

“That was really thoughtful of you,” Quinn says, holding out her hand to Allison. “I’m Quinn, this is Mercedes.”

Allison takes her hand, looking kind of surprised, and Puck’s probably not any help; he’s pretty surprised, too. “Allison. It was no trouble, really; I took my last exam this morning and I love a good excuse to come down into the City.” She releases Quinn’s hand with a slight smile. “We are _going_ to talk about question two on the free response.”

“Okay, okay,” Puck agrees, counting out the money to give Allison while the others keep talking. 

“So, you met Puck when he was in town for his auditions, right?” Quinn asks. 

“Puck?” Allison repeats. 

“Noooaaaah,” Kurt sing-songs. “Everyone at home calls him Puck, with a few exceptions.”

“Like a piece of hockey equipment?” Allison laughs. “You didn’t tell us that!”

“That’s his _name_ ,” Finn insists. “There’s nothing wrong with his name.”

“Well.” Allison shakes her head and then looks back at Quinn. “Yes, I met Noah or Puck or whatever we’re going to call him back in March. Hey, is Zachary coming too, Kurt?”

“That’s what Facebook says. Unless he was stoned again.”

“Which one was Zachary?” Mercedes asks Kurt. “The blond one or the dark–haired one?”

“Blond. From Arizona. Ben’s not in show choir.”

“We’re going to call him _Puck_ , because that’s his _name_ ,” Finn says.

Tina pulls Mike forward and smiles at Allison. “This is so cool of you to do! I’m Tina, this is Mike.”

“Like I said, no trouble,” Allison says amiably. “I tried to look at a picture of all of you so I’d remember who was who, but I only remembered Finn really.”

“Guys?” Schue says from the back. “Shouldn’t we check in? Grab some dinner?”

“There’s some great street vendors a few blocks over,” Allison offers. “Okay, I’m going to go meet my dad at one of those said vendors, I’ll see you at the show!” She grins at both Puck and Kurt and then waves, heading off in the direction that they all came from. 

“So that was Allison,” Kurt says in the little bit of silence that follows. “And we have tickets to _Rock of Ages_ for tonight. Now we can check in?” He grins. 

“His name is Puck,” Finn mutters quietly, to nobody specific. 

“Street vendors?” Mercedes says. “We didn’t eat at any street vendors last year.”

“We also ate pizza for about three-quarters of our meals, and I like pizza, but.” Puck shakes his head. “There’s a lot more food in New York than pizza.”

Mercedes looks at him dubiously but doesn’t argue, and they finally make it into the lobby. Puck steps up to the desk and hands them the reservation information, because that’s got to be a lot quicker than trying to repeat it all. 

The guy behind the desk looks startled at the appearance of all of them, but starts working quickly, and soon enough hands Puck a stack of keycards along with even more paperwork. Puck’s careful to keep the keys for the two rooms with king-size beds separate, handing one set to Schue right away, and then pocketing the other set. 

“All right,” Schue says, “who’s in with who?”

“Mercedes and I are in one room,” Tina answers quickly. “And Mike and Sam are sharing.” Puck hands them a set of keys for rooms next to each other with a nod and a slight raise of the eyebrow. Tina just grins, and Mike and Sam both smirk a little bit. 

“Quinn and I will be sharing a room,” Rachel announces.

“Please. Like you have to ask who I’m with,” Santana says, rolling her eyes and sticking out her hand.

“Girls,” Schue says, “I’m not sure that’s appropriate. None of the other couples—”

“It doesn’t bother anybody else,” Quinn says. 

“No, it doesn’t,” Mike agrees. “We’re fine with it.”

“Well.” Schue looks sort of out of his depth, and it’s probably better that they leave that line of discussion before someone hints at where Mike, Tina, Sam, and Mercedes are all actually sleeping. 

Puck just hands a key each to Finn and Artie, and shrugs. “That’s everyone.”

“Everybody meet in the lobby at seven,” Finn says. “We’ll hit the street vendors on the way to the show.”

“Please don’t leave the hotel alone!” Schue calls out as they rush towards the elevator. 

All of their rooms are on the fifth floor, and there’s another flurry of activity as they find the right doors. After Schue disappears into his room, Mike and Mercedes swap keys and slip inside their rooms. Puck shakes his head with a little grin. “Schue has no idea.”

Kurt grins back at him as the door closes. “I see you made sure we had a king-size.”

“Perk of doing the work, right?” Puck looks around the room. “Definitely practice for the fall.”

“Definitely unpacking.” Kurt frowns. “And then attempting to find a place to _put_ the luggage.”

“We should change clothes,” Puck says conversationally, slipping off his shoes and pulling off his shirt. 

“Or forget clothing,” Kurt says wryly. “One of us needs to leave jeans on for a few minutes at least, so we can answer the door.”

“I’ll let you do that,” Puck decides, taking off the last of his clothes and grabbing Kurt around the waist. He slides both hands under Kurt’s shirt, working it upwards slowly while he kisses Kurt softly. 

“Cheater,” Kurt responds a moment later, then presses their lips together as soon as Puck removes Kurt’s shirt. 

“Just faster.” Puck pushes Kurt against the side of the shower. “Hey, mirrors.”

Kurt laughs. “That’s what you notice.”

“Yeah.” Puck shrugs and grins. 

They’re both listening for a knock or some kind of sound at the door as they kiss, but after five minutes passes, they frown. “Maybe he needs an excuse?” Kurt says. 

“Text him?”

Kurt nods. “Maybe so.” He pulls his phone out and sends a text quickly, then sets his phone on one of the bedside tables. 

There’s some light taps at the door after a few minutes, and Puck nudges Kurt. “Go on, K. You have pants on.”

“Shush. You’d better move or it won’t matter that I still have pants on, anyone walking by could see you.” Puck laughs but moves out of the door’s line of sight, and Kurt walks up to the door, looking out for half a second before opening the door. “There you are, darling.”

“Hey,” Finn says, looking a little bit lost. 

“Thought you were coming down here,” Puck says as Kurt closes the door again, this time locking the bolt as well. 

“Yeah, I didn’t… I mean, I just, I wasn’t…” Finn sounds slightly spacey, and he starts to wander away from the door. Kurt reaches out his arm as Finn steps past him, pulling on Finn’s shirt to get Finn to turn towards him. He doesn’t wait for Finn to say anything else, just uses his other hand to pull Finn down into a kiss. Puck takes the few steps necessary to cross the room and wraps himself around Finn from behind, pressing his lips against the back of Finn’s neck. 

“We wondered where you were,” Puck murmurs. “Need some help with this bed.”

“Does it need moved?”

“No. Filled, maybe.”

“I can be helpful,” Finn says. His voice is soft and tentative, like he’s not sure that’s the right answer.

“Yes you are,” Kurt says firmly, and Puck watches his fingers tighten in Finn’s hair as he kisses Finn again, hard. Puck puts his hands under Finn’s shirt, skimming his fingers over Finn’s back and tugging the fabric up. Finn raises his arms compliantly, and Puck manages to wrestle it off with a little help from Kurt. 

“Finn,” Puck says quietly, returning his lips to Finn’s neck and shoulders. “Finn.”

“Puck?” Finn answers, sounding like he’s not sure that’s the right name. 

“Right here.” Puck runs his tongue along the edge of Finn’s shoulder blade. “We’re both right here, Finn.”

“I love you,” Finn says softly. 

“Oh, darling. We love you,” Kurt says. “Our darling, our Finn.”

Finn pulls Kurt against his chest, arms wrapping around him. “Love you so much,” he whispers against the top of Kurt’s head. “Both of you.”

“Let us love you?” Kurt asks. 

“Yes. Please, yes.” Finn’s hands start moving down Kurt’s back in long strokes. 

Puck moves his mouth along Finn’s shoulder and down to his upper arm. “Not tired of us yet?” he says, slightly teasing. “One of us keeps cornering you.”

“Yeah, I keep cornering one of you right back,” Finn says, relaxing under Puck’s touch. “You tired of _me_?”

“You’ll have to try harder if that’s your goal,” Puck says, nipping at the skin on the top of Finn’s shoulder. 

“He’s right,” Kurt murmurs. “Not tired of you.”

“Not tired of you, either,” Finn says. “I just didn’t know…”

“Now you do,” Kurt says firmly. 

“Ok. Now I do,” Finn says. “I missed you guys.”

“Ten minutes without me is devastating.” Puck grins against Finn’s neck. 

“Missed you since the plane,” Finn says, and then his mouth is on Kurt’s. 

“You’re overdressed,” Puck complains, biting Finn’s ear gently. “And we have our suitcases now.”

“I _love_ the suitcases,” Finn says, with his lips still against Kurt’s. “They’re my favorite.”

“What are you going to do with them?” Kurt says, challengingly. 

“Nothing with them. Just the stuff in them,” Finn answers. 

“Oh?” Kurt pulls back slightly, raising an eyebrow, and Puck just grins. 

“Yeah. That’s, uh, where the supplies are, right?”

“It is,” Kurt confirms. “Or was.” He gestures over his shoulder towards the counter next to the sink. Finn disentangles himself from Kurt and Puck and takes a few deliberate steps toward the counter and picks up the bottle of lube, then steps back between Kurt and Puck. 

“Going to use that?” Puck asks lightly. 

“That’s the plan, anyway,” Finn says. He turns his head to Puck, brushing his lips against Puck’s. 

“That seems like a good plan, then,” Kurt offers. 

“That’s as far as my plan got,” Finn confesses. “Don’t know where to start.”

“Start with naked?” Puck says. “On the bed?”

“Yeah, that works.” 

Puck grins and reaches around to the front of Finn’s jeans, Kurt’s fingers there too, and together they unfasten them before pushing both jeans and underwear off of Finn. 

“Shirt off, darling,” Kurt says. Finn pulls his shirt over his head and drops it onto the floor by his feet. “Better.”

“Yeah,” Puck agrees, his mouth on Finn’s skin as they slowly pull Finn towards the bed. “Now we just need to get you the rest of the way naked, blue eyes.”

As soon as Puck says it, Finn’s hands are working at the button on Kurt’s jeans, undoing the zipper and then sliding them down Kurt’s hips. Kurt steps out of them as the back of Puck’s knees hit the bed, and the three of them tumble onto the bed in a pile. 

“Even better,” Kurt murmurs. 

“Yeah,” Finn says, as he starts kissing along Kurt’s jaw and throat. He runs his hand over Kurt’s side and then reaches back to do the same to Puck. 

Puck presses closer to Finn, his arms stretching around both Finn and Kurt, and he nods. “Good, better, best?” he jokes. “We going for ‘best’?”

“Aren’t we already the best?” Kurt says, sounding amused. 

Finn mumbles “mmhmm,” his lips still against Kurt’s neck. He still has the bottle of lube clutched in the hand that he isn’t using to alternate between touching Kurt and touching Puck. 

“What do you want, darling?” Kurt whispers. “Tell us what you want.”

“You. Both of you. Everything,” Finn says, moving his hand a little more frantically down Kurt’s side and nipping at Kurt’s neck in between kisses. 

“What you said this morning,” Kurt says. “Do you still want that?”

“Oh, _fuck_ , Kurt,” Finn breathes. “Yes.”

“Do you want that while Puck fucks you?”

Finn makes a high-pitched whiny noise, then says, “Yes, oh god yes, please.”

“Then I think you have a bit of work to do, darling,” Kurt says, smirking just slightly. 

Finn tilts his head to the side like he’s confused, but he seems to figure it out pretty quickly, because he nods his head a little and kisses Kurt on the mouth, hard. Puck pulls the lube free from Finn’s hand, opening it quickly before flipping the bottle over and pouring some into Finn’s palm. Puck spreads some on his own fingers before placing the bottle on the bedside table, then rolls back against Finn, his fingers teasing above Finn’s entrance. 

“You wanted to know about naked storytime?” Puck murmurs. Finn nods. “This is the hands-on version.” Puck makes a circle with one finger, then slowly pushes it inside. “Where I tell you what you look like and how you feel while I do the things that I tell you I’m doing. Right now I have my finger inside you, and fuck, you’re so tight, darling.”

Finn whimpers and then he moves his hand forward, and Kurt exhales, the bed squeaking just a bit as the three of them shift and move. 

Puck moves his finger slowly in and out of Finn, his other hand resting on Finn’s back. “Feels good, going to make you feel good,” he says softly, before adding a second finger. “So tight, fuck, tight all around me.” Puck pushes both fingers farther inside, twisting them slightly. “Just stretching open for me.”

“My fingers are bigger than yours,” Finn says. “Don’t wanna hurt him.”

“You won’t,” Kurt responds, shifting towards Finn again. “You won’t hurt me, darling.”

“Both of you going to feel good,” Puck says, twisting his fingers more, searching. “Just like this.” He scrapes the very tip of one finger across where he thinks Finn’s prostate is, and Finn squirms and yelps. Puck grins to himself and presses a little harder. “So good.”

“Oh, god, Puck,” Finn says, and Puck leans forward slightly, in the process pushing his fingers just a little deeper into Finn. Finn responds by moving his fingers slowly in and out of Kurt, his eyebrows squished together in concentration. 

“Yes,” Kurt nods. “Yes, like that, Finn.”

“That’s ok?” Finn asks, moving his hand again. “It feels ok?”

“It’s good, darling. It feels good,” Kurt murmurs. “So good. You can move them faster.”

“Ok. I don’t want to hurt you,” Finn says, but he does move his fingers a little faster. 

“You’re not.” Puck watches Kurt’s eyes start to flutter close, his head tilted back. 

Puck shifts position again, his mouth trailing along Finn’s neck. “I’m going to fuck you now, darling,” he whispers in Finn’s ear. “Going to make _you_ feel good.” Puck slides his fingers out, then quickly coats his cock before positioning himself at Finn’s entrance. He pushes in slowly, almost painfully slowly, his hand gripping Finn’s hip. 

Finn tenses for a second, then relaxes with a soft, “Ohhh.”

“Oh, fuck,” Puck breathes. “Fuck. So tight, Finn, so fucking good. You feel so good all around me.” He stops moving once he’s fully inside Finn, just breathing. “Just. Fuck, darling.”

“Puck,” Finn says, his voice low. 

Puck holds himself still for another long moment, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He starts moving slowly, fingers still tightly digging into Finn’s skin. 

“ _Puck_ ,” Finn repeats, sounding desperate. Puck keeps moving just as slowly, kissing along Finn’s spine. 

“Finn,” Kurt says quietly. “Finn, darling, _please_.” Finn takes a shuddering breath and nods his head, and after a moment passes, Puck can hear Kurt drawing a breath before releasing it, the sound echoing in the room. “Yes,” Kurt hisses. “Just like that.”

“Oh, god, Kurt, oh god, oh my god,” Finn murmurs. “You feel so good. You feel _so_ fucking good.”

Puck has the fleeting thought that he _really_ wishes they had a camera or something, which makes him speed up a little, rocking against Finn’s body. Finn tightens around him, probably unintentionally, and Puck leaves his eyes closed as he speeds up even more, pushing into Finn with increasing force behind each thrust. 

He can hear Kurt breathing fast, and Finn trembles underneath him as the three of them move. Finn starts his babbling, saying to Kurt in a low voice, “God, Kurt, you’re amazing. You feel so good. Love you, love this, love being inside you. So beautiful, Kurt, god, so beautiful, love you so much.”

Kurt whimpers slightly and then Puck can feel Kurt tugging Finn down before he hears the two of them kissing, and Puck grins against Finn’s back, both of his hands now on Finn’s sides. They all slide against each other for a minute before Kurt hums and then cries out as he comes, and it’s probably a good thing there weren’t any actual words in what Kurt yells, in case someone was in the hall. A few seconds later, Finn starts chanting “I love you, I love you” and tightens around Puck as he comes, his hips snapping forward. 

Puck bites down his own lip as he thrusts into Finn twice more before he comes as well, collapsing against Finn’s back. Finn’s still lazily kissing Kurt, his hand on the side of Kurt’s face. After another moment, Puck slides off of Finn’s back, landing on the bed next to Kurt. He leaves one hand on Finn’s side, pressing against Kurt’s side and letting his eyes close again.

After a few minutes, Puck feels Finn’s hand on his face and then Finn’s mouth on his. Puck grins to himself, against Finn’s lips, and then parts his lips just barely. Finn’s tongue grazes against Puck’s lower lip, and Puck lets his mouth open a little more, the hand on Finn’s side slowly moving up to the back of Finn’s neck. 

Finn continues kissing Puck for a few long minutes before Kurt whispers beside them. “We need to shower if we’re going to, my loves.”

Finn stops kissing Puck and whines, “Don’t wanna.”

“You want to go out all messy?” Kurt smirks. “That might be a bit uncomfortable.”

Finn flashes a crooked smile at Kurt. “Maybe I don’t wanna go out.”

“You’ll like the show?” Kurt offers. “Not sure how we’d explain our absence, either.”

“More food poisoning probably wouldn’t be believable, no,” Puck agrees. “We may have used up our good excuses at the wrong times.”

“Damn, guess I’ll just have to tell the truth then,” Finn says. “Sorry. Not going. Too busy fucking.”

“And then we all have to watch Schue fall over dead, dude.”

“See, so you still get a show!” Finn’s smile widens. “It’s win-win for everybody, especially me.”

“Not the kind of show I want to watch,” Kurt sniffs. “What if someone decides to attempt CPR? No. Sadly, showering it is.”

Finn flops back against the bed dramatically. “Fiiiiine. Do I need to leave to shower?”

“Do you?” Puck shrugs. 

“Depends on if you want clean clothes to put on afterward. Walking through the halls in small hotel towels is so declasse.”

“Wait, I’d have to wear a _towel_?”

“Unless you want to get arrested.”

“Hey, Puck, loan me a T-shirt. It won’t get dirty between here and my room,” Finn says. “I’ll shower here, put on my jeans and his T-shirt, then I’ll go change into whatever it is I’m supposed to wear tonight.” His eyebrows squish together. “Wait, you’ll tell me what I’m supposed to put on, right?”

“Yes, darling,” Kurt reassures him. “Do you want to go first? The shower is… rather small.”

“Yeah, I probably should, since I have to walk all the way back to my room after,” Finn sighs. 

“A long and hazardous trek,” Puck intones. 

Finn rolls his eyes, but then he hauls himself up onto his feet and goes to start the shower. After a minute, Puck rolls off the bed and rifles through his stuff to find a T-shirt for Finn, tossing it onto the bed. “Jeans?” he says to Kurt.

Kurt sits on the edge of the bed and tilts his head, then nods. “Will work.”

Finn doesn’t take long in the shower, and as soon as he steps out of the square walls, Kurt takes his place. Finn towels off and then pulls his jeans on without underwear and holds out a hand towards Puck. “Shirt?”

Puck picks the shirt up from the bed and tosses it towards him. “I don’t think you can borrow jeans though. Then we’re back to that capri discussion.”

“ _Man_ pris, dude,” Finn says. “I think these can handle that, what, long and hazardous trek?”

“I’ve changed my mind. It’s actually arduous.”

“Yeah, _you’re_ arduous.”

Puck smirks. “Didn’t hear you complaining.”

Finn shrugs. “Figured you’d get better.”

“Yeah?” Puck keeps smirking. “Guess you’ll just have to find out.”

“You know,” Finn says, glancing at the shower and then back at Puck. “We might have time.”

Puck grins. “Not if you’re going to find clothes that are approved,” he points out, taking the few steps necessary to cross the room to stand in front of Finn. “Wouldn’t want to look less than your best, now would you?” he says more quietly, then pushes his fingers through Finn’s hair before pulling him down to press their lips together. 

Finn drops the shirt Puck just handed him and starts walking the two of them towards the bed, Puck walking backwards. When Puck’s legs hit the bed, he sits down before leaning back, pulling Finn with him. Finn keeps leaning forward until he has Puck pinned against the mattress. Puck pushes his tongue into Finn’s mouth, fingers tightening in Finn’s hair and his body arching up against Finn’s. Finn’s hand moves between them, his fingers fumbling with the button of his jeans. 

The shower doesn’t stop, but Kurt’s voice starts talking from nearby. “Boys.” Kurt sighs and Puck can practically see him shaking his head. “Finn, you need to go get dressed. And Puck, you need to shower,” he adds.

“Shit, busted,” Finn grumbles. “Ok, Kurt,” he says, a little louder. “What am I supposed to wear?” Puck has to suppress a snicker at the look on Finn’s face.

“Your dark jeans are fine. Not a T-shirt; either a sweater or something with a collar. Do you need more specifics?”

“Uh. Probably.”

“Either that grey sweater over an undershirt or the dark green shirt.”

“Which one looks better?” Finn asks, refastening his jeans with a long–suffering look on his face. 

“Do you think you’re likely to get cold in the theatre?”

“How cold is the theatre?”

“Just wear the sweater,” Puck breaks in, shaking his head ruefully.

“Kurt? The sweater?” Finn asks. 

“Yes, Finn, that’s good.”

“Asshole,” Puck snorts. 

“Well-dressed asshole, asshole,” Finn says. He picks up the shirt he’s borrowing from Puck and pulls it over his head. “Speaking of, guess I have to go get dressed.”

“Yes,” Kurt agrees. “Especially if we’re going to get food before the show. Which.”

“I vote definitely yes,” Puck nods. Puck gets up off the bed and steps into the shower as Finn leaves the room, the door clicking shut behind him. It doesn’t take long for Puck to shower, and Kurt’s still standing in front of the mirror with a towel around his waist, drying his hair and everything else. Puck steps behind him and wraps his arms around Kurt’s waist, resting his chin on his shoulder. “New York, New York.”

“ _It’s a hell of a town._ ” Kurt grins at Puck in the mirror before turning in Puck’s arm and pressing his lips against Puck’s. Puck deepens the kiss almost immediately, but it’s Kurt’s hand that snakes between them, and Puck pulls away with a laugh.

“Now who needs to remember we don’t have much time?”

“Shush.” Kurt kisses him again. “Fine, get dressed or I won’t kiss you.”

Puck pouts for half a minute as he pulls on his jeans and then grabs a shirt, but Kurt just sniffs, finding his own clothes. Once they’re both dressed, Puck pulls Kurt close to him again, sitting on the edge of the bed and then tugging Kurt into his lap as they kiss. 

Kurt’s just parted his lips a little more when there’s a knock at the door, and Kurt pulls away with a little sigh. “Who is it?”

“Me!” Rachel’s voice carries. “I’m so excited about the show tonight! Aren’t you?”

Kurt sighs more heavily the second time, and Puck sighs too as Kurt stands up slowly and walks over to the door, opening it with a forced smile. “Yes, we are.”

“Oh, don’t both of you look nice!” Rachel beams. “You should have warned us that we were going to a show, Noah!”

“I asked Allison about that, she said most people who live in New York wouldn’t dress up for a Monday night performance. Friday or Saturday night, _maybe_ , if they’re on a date or similar, and definitely for a premiere, but.”

“Oh, well.” Rachel deflates a little.

“Besides, would have ruined the whole _surprise_ aspect.”

“That is very true,” Kurt agrees. “It was a delightful surprise.”

“Should we go downstairs now?” Rachel asks. “If we’re all downstairs early, we can make sure we get food and get to the theatre in time!”

“We’ll be fine, Rachel,” Kurt assures her, but they pick up their wallets and Puck grabs the tickets as they walk towards the door. Clearly, she’s not going to leave before it’s time to go downstairs, so what’s the point, exactly? 

 

Finn gets a text from Kurt that they’re already down in the lobby, so that’s where he goes once he’s changed into the jeans and sweater Kurt told him to put on. When Finn gets down to the lobby, he sees the two of them sitting on fancy sofa, with Rachel plopped next to Puck and chattering away at him about something. Puck looks bored and Kurt looks like he can’t wait to leave the lobby and get out into the city and away from Rachel, and Finn wonders if this is how it’s going to be for the two of them come the fall. Well, that’s just kinda what they get for picking a city that’s also going to have _Rachel_ in it. She’s probably going to just show up on their doorstep or stoop or whatever they have in New York, just, all the time.

He doesn’t interrupt right away, but then Puck seems to notice him standing there, so Finn goes to take a seat and almost sits right on Quinn, who’s in one of the weird curled up-looking chairs.

“Sorry, Quinn!”

“It’s ok, Finn,” Quinn says, smiling faintly. “You didn’t actually sit on me.”

Rachel looks up, and seems startled, but doesn’t pause in her talking about seat cushions or whatever. Kurt meets Finn’s gaze and rolls his eyes, shrugging slightly. Poor Puck just looks glazed over, like he’s been listening to Rachel for hours. Or being talked at, anyway.

“So,” Finn says, loud enough to talk right over Rachel. “What’s this show about, huh?”

“Oh, I think you’ll enjoy it, Finn!” Rachel exclaims. “The book is built around classic rock songs of the 1980s and is set in 1987 in Hollywood!”

“Hey, that sounds pretty cool,” Finn says, and he catches Puck’s eye. Puck looks relieved, and he nods very slightly in Finn’s direction. 

“I wasn’t sure what some of them were about,” Puck admits, “and apparently most shows are dark on Mondays, but this one sounded like more people would enjoy it than not.”

“What other songs are in it?” Quinn asks. “Any more Journey?”

“‘Any Way You Want It’,” Kurt answers, “and hmm. ‘We Built This City’, ‘We’re Not Gonna Take It’, ‘Oh Sherrie’.”

“Sweet!” Finn says. “Ok, I _might_ almost be glad to have to leave the hotel and go to a musical now.” He holds his face very still, because what he wants to do is grin at Kurt, who looks like he wants to huff but is holding himself back. “You know, almost.”

“You know, I’m pretty sure _Priscilla_ isn’t dark on Mondays,” Kurt says prissily after a moment. “Why didn’t you ask Allison to get us all tickets for that, Puck?”

“Drag queens.” Puck shrugs and then smirks. “But you’re right, Finn might’ve liked it. Given him some good ideas for Lady Coco.”

“Hey now,” Finn says. “We don’t talk about Lady Coco. She’s a lady of mystery. You can’t just be blabbing about her all over the place.”

“Not everyone can pull off being a drag queen,” Puck says matter of factly. “Or even a queen.” He smirks slowly at Finn. 

“Wouldn’t even try. Anyway, Kurt never did let me wear his crown from last year.”

“That’s right, I still need to get you that T-shirt,” Kurt says absently. 

“We need to get me lots of T-shirts, but I still say you should let me wear that crown,” Finn says. “We could get a picture and put it on Facebook.”

“Make it your profile picture?” Puck suggests. 

“One of the three of us and make it _all_ our profile pictures,” Finn explains, as another group of people comes out of the elevator. Mike and Tina look like they might also have been making use of the hotel facilities or at least like they had showers, and Santana’s practically wearing Brittany like a coat, while Artie rolls along with them looking all put out, probably from having to ride in the Elevator of Love.

“I looked up the musical on my laptop!” Tina announces. “It looks like a lot of fun.”

“I think it’s going to rock pretty hard,” Artie agrees. “That was a good call on shows.”

“And we’ll still have time after it’s over to go up in the Empire State Building,” Santana says. “I wanted to do that last year.”

“And I can stand down at the bottom and wave up to you,” Finn adds, because really, no. That’s just not going to happen, Finn at the top of the Empire State Building.

“Not even with an incentive?” Kurt asks very casually. 

“I already have a shot glass from th— _ohhhh_ ,” Finn says. “Oh. Now I’m having one of those things, where you want to do something and really don’t want to do something at the same time. What are those called?”

“Catch-22?” Puck guesses, shrugging, but he also shoots him a look, and then looks around at the rest of them standing around. Finn realizes that maybe all of that he just said wasn’t the particularly best out-loud thing to say.

“Because I want to see the view!” Finn says, too loudly. “But, you know. Tall building!”

The elevator opens again and Sam, Mercedes, and Mr. Schue all come out. At least Schue doesn’t look like he had to suffer through any Elevator of Love stuff, which is probably for the best, what with the room situation and all. 

“Great, we’re all here!” Schue announces unnecessarily. “Now, you mentioned street food?”

“There’s at least four or five carts between here and the theatre,” Puck answers easily. “Korean, Indian, and I think falafel?” He looks at Kurt briefly, and Kurt nods. 

“I think that’s right.” Kurt stands up as he speaks. “Shall we?”

“What’s falafel?” Brittany whispers to Santana, just loud enough for Finn to hear. “Are we allowed to do that on the sidewalk?” Santana just shrugs.

“Is Korean food like Chinese food or sushi?” Mercedes asks with a frown. “I’ve never had Korean food.” Mike and Tina roll their eyes a little but don’t say anything. 

“Deep-fried chickpeas,” Puck says to Brittany, and Finn can see Sam and Artie both make a face. 

Kurt rolls his eyes and starts walking towards the door like he just expects everyone to follow him, but they all do, so it works out. Finn’s not sure if they’re eating falafel or Korean or what, but he’ll just get whatever it is Kurt gets and probably that’ll work out, though he’ll never say no to Indian food in general. It’s not far to the food, at least, and there’s a couple of different carts almost next to each other. 

“What are you eating?” Finn asks Kurt.

Kurt tilts his head towards the Korean-food cart. “There’s more places to get falafel around the city. Who knows where we’ll end up eating tomorrow.”

“Do you know what’s in Korean food? Will you explain it?” Finn asks. 

“This one is mostly fried fish or shrimp sandwiches with Korean condiments,” Kurt says. “But their condiments can be quite spicy, so you should like that.”

“I like spicy food,” Finn says, “so that’ll work, as long as it’s not spicy and also really weird.”

“Exactly.” Kurt flashes him a brief smile and steps up to place his own order as Puck slides to the side to wait for his food. 

Finn looks at his Korean food a little dubiously once he has it, because it’s got sort of an interesting smell, but sure enough, it really is very spicy in all the right ways, and he ends up enjoying it more or less as they continue walking to the theatre. Puck and Kurt walk like they know exactly where they’re going, like they belong there, and Finn sort of lags behind them and just watches them go. He ends up back with Artie, but other than a “yeah” or a “sounds cool,” he just doesn’t have much to bring to a conversation. 

Allison is waiting for them outside the theatre, and she smiles at them all broadly when she looks up from her phone. “There you are! What did you get to eat?”

“Korean,” Puck answers her, and she nods, then Finn adds, “It’s spicy!”

“He likes extra spicy,” Kurt continues, and Allison just makes a funny face and nods. 

“You should try the Indian cart that’s up in Midtown, I can’t remember exactly where,” Allison says. “Super-spicy!”

“I love Indian food!”

“It’s true.” Kurt tilts his head like he’s thinking, but he doesn’t say anything else before they are at the theatre doors and presenting their tickets. 

Once they’re all inside, they file into the seats, and Finn ends up on one side of Kurt, with Puck on the other of Kurt, and Allison on the other side of Puck. Finn stretches his arm across the back of Kurt’s seat, because that’s just what he’s always done, and that’s a perfectly acceptable thing to do. 

“Hey, should we check in on foursquare?” Finn asks. “I did at the hotel. Did you guys?”

Puck nods. “Yeah, we did. On each floor on the elevator down. Sadly, the rooms aren’t individually listed. I put in a request, though.” He grins. 

“I checked in on the subway every time I had the option to,” Finn says, grinning. “Oh, I should have seen if I could check in from the Korean cart!” Without really thinking about it, he stretches his fingers out and runs one of them down the side of Puck’s neck. Puck tilts his head towards Allison just barely before he stops himself, and Kurt giggles for just a second before he’s quiet again. 

“You know, if you guys had put me in charge last year, we could have seen a show last year, too, instead of Rachel giving some guy a credit card to slide down his ass,” Puck remarks after a second.

Finn tries to swallow his snicker and just ends up kind of choking on his own tongue. Kurt is giggling beside him, and on the other side of Puck, Allison says, loudly, “His _ass_?”

“Yes, Rachel gave a supposed scalper her credit card,” Kurt says very matter-of-factly, “in exchange for tickets to _Cats_. Which, of course, closed years ago.”

Allison laughs. “Oooh, that’s priceless! Am I allowed to hold that against her? She’s the Juilliard princess, right?”

“Oh, she’s a princess, alright,” Finn snorts. 

“Tiny little Jewish Juilliard American princess,” Puck says solemnly. Finn moves his fingertip in a circle against the side of Puck’s neck. This time, Puck just leans his head into the touch, shrugging very slightly. 

“You have such interesting friends!” Allison declares as the lights start to dim. Finn leans close enough to Kurt to feel his body heat through his clothes, and his lets all his fingers move across the back of Puck’s neck. Maybe it’s not the best idea, but he can’t _not_ touch them while he has the chance. 

 

When the finale starts, the way too familiar strains of ‘Don’t Stop Believing’ echoing around the theatre, Puck reluctantly releases Kurt’s hand. Finn provides a pretty good shield from the rest of the row, but Finn’ll have to retract his own arm a bit, too, at least before the lights go up. 

The lights do go up without any movement from Finn, so Puck raises his other hand and lightly flicks at Finn’s wrist. 

“Oh! Sorry.” Finn pulls his arm back so his hand is resting on the back of Kurt’s seat. 

“So what did you think, Finn?” Kurt asks. 

“It was louder than I expected,” Finn says. “I liked the music.”

“I liked our versions of Journey better,” Puck laughs. “Is it okay to say that?”

“Mmm, I agree,” Kurt smiles. 

“That’s exactly what I was thinking!” Finn says. “I just didn’t want to be the one to say it out loud.”

“Are there videos?” Allison pipes up. 

“Oh, there are videos of almost everything,” Kurt says ruefully. 

“Like your speech,” Allison nods. “I got to tell everyone ‘hey, I know that guy!’ which was awesome.” Allison sounds delightedly smug. 

“I’m famous on the Internet,” Kurt says dryly, and Puck grins. 

The rest of the row’s standing up, and Santana loudly announces “Empire State Building! Who’s with me?”

There’s a general clamor of ‘yes’ from the rest of the group, but Kurt shakes his head and gestures to the four of them at the end. “We’re going to walk Allison to the subway and then head back to the hotel. Or dessert, and then the hotel.”

Allison sighs. “Of course, you’re getting dessert after I leave you. Typical boys.” She grins as she says that. 

“That’s me! Super-typical!” Finn says, raising and lower his eyebrows once. “Also, they know I’d probably eat yours.”

“It’s true,” Puck nods.

“And Noah will if you get something chocolate, so really, you’re better off waiting until you get home for dessert,” Kurt concludes. 

“See, we’re just looking out for your, uh, health and well-being or whatever,” Finn says. “I’d hate for you to get this really awful impression of me, since you’re gonna be hanging out with Puck and Kurt all the time and I’ll probably have to deal with you when I visit, right?”

“Exactly!” Allison grins back at him, and Rachel looks between Allison and Finn for a moment before narrowing her eyes. Her look is just on the edge of unfriendly; Puck thinks that probably she could get away with claiming she had something in her eye or she is just thinking, but Puck’s pretty sure that’s not the case. 

“Well, be sure to be back at the hotel by midnight, everyone,” Schue says loudly. “Don’t travel by yourself, and check in with me when you arrive. Tomorrow morning we have the opening meeting and we’ll figure out our schedule for blocking and sightseeing. What’s breakfast?”

“Complimentary buffet in the hotel,” Puck answers. 

“Great! See you all in the lobby at 8:30. Eat before then, we’re due at the venue at 9.” With that, Schue turns to walk out of the theatre, apparently having decided to go to the Empire State Building with the others. 

“Ok, I’d just like to say, I’m _really_ bummed to not be going up to the top of that really tall building,” Finn says. “Not sure I’ll be able to sleep tonight.”

“It’s all right, darling, I’m sure you’ll cope,” Kurt says wryly, and Puck shakes his head a little. Allison doesn’t say anything or even change her facial expression, and _that_ is really saying something. 

“Not a fan of heights?” is all she says, actually. “I’ve been up there twice. It _is_ pretty, but there are some fantastic pictures taken from up there, too.”

“Yeah, I don’t even really want to look at pictures,” Finn says, with a shudder.

“Oh, you really should at least try pictures,” Allison argues. “There’s no better way to get a sense of the scope of Central Park, at least in my opinion.”

“Speaking of the city, what are you doing tomorrow?” Kurt asks Allison with a raise of one eyebrow.

“In theory, I’m going to school, but.” She laughs. “I took my last AP exam this morning. My only AP exam, actually. I don’t really have to go. Why?”

“Finn doesn’t really want to go on the Circle Line tomorrow, I don’t think,” Kurt says, looking at Finn. “Do you?”

“That’s the thing you said was really boring, right?” Finn asks. “’Cause I’ll go with a no on that.”

Puck nods. “ _Really_ boring. But.”

“Ahh, I gotcha!” Allison grins at Finn. “Want me to show you the cool parts of the city?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’d be awesome, Allison, thanks!” Finn says. 

“Great!” She winks at him. “You’ll have a better time than any of the rest of them, I guarantee it.”

“That is probably true,” Kurt agrees with a nod. “I told you she should be the White House Social Secretary.”

Puck nods as well. “She really should.”

“No, I don’t want to live in DC!” Allison laughs. “And here is my stop.” She looks around. “I’ll meet you three here? Text me what time?”

“Sure,” Puck nods, and with another wave, Allison disappears down into the subway with a last wave. “And that is Allison in a nutshell.”

“She’s, uh. That thing that starts with a V and means has a lot of energy,” Finn says. “Like vivid, but not that.”

“Vivacious?”

“No, I don’t think she _eats people_ , dude!” Finn says, shaking his head. 

“No, darling, that doesn’t mean she eats people,” Kurt assures him, and without thinking about it, the two of them have fallen into step on either side of Finn, their hands joined behind Finn’s back. “Dessert?”

“Always. Two of them, maybe,” Finn says. 

“There’s a pastry place just around the corner, apparently,” Kurt informs them. “Shall we?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Puck agrees. The pastry place is, in fact, nearby, and they sit down with dessert and coffee, jammed three on one side of a booth. “I like this place,” he decides after his first bite of the chocolate mousse cake.

“Can I have a bite?” Finn asks. 

“Sure,” Puck smirks. He slowly cuts a bite and then slides it into his own mouth. “Come and get it.”

Finn starts to make a face, then just shrugs and leans forward to press his lips to Puck’s, tongue pushing into Puck’s mouth. Puck grins and lets his mouth fall open as Finn swipes the bite of cake from his mouth. 

“Yeah, that tastes pretty good,” Finn says. “Cake’s not bad either.”

“You’re hilarious, darling,” Puck deadpans. 

“You two are gross. Also hot.” Kurt shakes his head. 

“He started it,” Finn says.

“It’s true. You going to share some of that tiramisu with me, blue eyes?”

“That depends on how you want me to share it. Finn, darling, do you recommend that method of sharing?”

Finn twists up his face like he’s thinking about it. “It’s a little gross if you think about it too hard. Really hot if you don’t. So I recommend yes, but no thinking.”

Kurt giggles and puts a bite of the tiramisu in his mouth, then leans across Finn towards Puck. Puck grins and cups his hand around Kurt’s cheek before sliding his tongue along Kurt’s parted lips. His tongue darts inside, claiming the bite of tiramisu, and their lips brush for a long moment before Puck pulls back. 

“Hmm. Yes. No thinking,” Kurt agrees, grinning. 

“You should always trust me when I say no thinking,” Finn says. “I know what I’m talking about.”

“That’s illogical,” Puck comments. “How can you know if you aren’t thinking?” He frowns. “Now I’m confusing myself!”

“Less talking, more kissing?” Kurt suggests.

“I don’t have to think about things to know they’re true,” Finn says. “Some things I just _know_.” He leans toward Kurt and gives him a kiss. 

“Mmm, lemon.” Kurt smirks. 

“We should really finish up these desserts,” Puck says blandly. 

“Are you tired, baby?”

“No, not really,” Puck grins. 

“We should probably go to bed,” Finn says, with his fake serious face. “Busy day.”

“That is true.” 

Kurt scoots out first, shaking his head and grinning. “Let’s go, then. The others won’t be back for awhile, even.”

“Awesome plan,” Finn says. 

Puck shrugs as they head out the door and his and Kurt’s hands slide behind Finn again, Finn’s arms draping across their shoulders. “We’re awesome.”


	5. Girls' Night In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finn Hudson: Topic of Conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In lieu of a second set of teasers, the glee girls fail the Bechdel test.

Deciding to have their little girls’ night in in her and Rachel’s room was definitely one of their wiser decisions, Quinn thinks, since Santana and Brittany are still having a hard time remembering that the activities for the night are supposed to be gossip and manicures, not making out. 

“Can someone get a bucket of ice water for Santana and Brittany,” Quinn says. “We’ll go ahead and start working on toning their skin right now!” Brittany giggles, but Santana’s only response is to flip Quinn off. 

“Do you want me to do your hands first?” Tina offers to Quinn, brandishing her bag of nail polishes. “I really did send the black with Mike to whatever room they were going to end up in!”

“They’ll be so beautiful!” Brittany says, from where she’s still firmly ensconced in Santana’s lap. “We’ll have the most beautiful boys on our team!”

“Somehow I’m not sure they’ll actually go through with painting their toes!” Rachel says, giggling a little. “I just can’t imagine all of them with nail polish.”

“Hand me the bottle of peach polish,” Quinn says. “I want to see if it looks neutral enough on.”

Mercedes scoops up the peach and hands it up to Quinn. “It should be,” she agrees. “We don’t want any _more_ surprises this trip!”

“Finn and Allison!” Quinn says. “I admit I’m surprised.”

“I still don’t know what to think,” Mercedes says. “I was so sure Puck was at least interested in her.”

“It’s really not like Finn to move so fast,” Quinn adds, shaking her head. “Do you think the two of them have been corresponding secretly or something like that?”

“It might explain why he took that April to prom,” Rachel says, sounding a little mournful. 

“April’s a _lot_ of fun!” Brittany chirps. “We had fun with her! I think he took her because she’s fun!”

“It’s just so contradictory,” Rachel continues, as if Brittany hadn’t said a word. “He obviously wasn’t concerned about _moving quickly_ at prom, and now, just over a week later?” She shakes her head, looking sad. 

“Lesbians like Finn,” Brittany says. “Except for ’Tana. She likes him okay, but not enough to dance with him.” She pauses for a moment and looks thoughtful. “Maybe Allison is a lesbian!”

“Then why would he have stayed out all night with her?” Tina asks, looking puzzled. “That wouldn’t make that much sense, either.”

“I think it makes more sense than any of your ideas,” Brittany says, dismissively. “I know what I’m talking about.”

“Either way, it doesn’t explain Puck,” Mercedes states. 

“Explain him?” Rachel says, her voice sounding odd. 

“It’s possible we misinterpreted his relationship with Allison,” Quinn says to Mercedes. “I was just so ready to be happy for him, I guess. He didn’t seem upset about Allison and Finn, though.”

“Well,” Tina says slowly, “why would he be? He never said he wanted anything other than friendship with Allison.”

“Maybe they think girls and boys can’t be friends,” Brittany says to Santana. “Do girls who are friends with boys sleep in the hall, too, or is there a special room for that?”

“You didn’t actually have to sleep in the hall, Britt,” Santana says patiently. “But maybe there is a special room.”

“Do we have to sleep there? I’m friends with lots of boys. You’re friends with a few of them.”

“Nobody has to sleep anywhere but their own rooms, Brittany,” Quinn explains. “I know that boys and girls can be friends. I guess I’m just not used to the idea of Puck being friends, and only friends, with a girl.”

“Or the idea of Finn Hudson jumping into bed with a girl the day after he actually meets her!” Mercedes exclaims. “It’s like they swapped brains!”

“That’s really not like him at all. We were together for almost two years, and the most he ever tried for was over the shirt second base,” Quinn says. 

Rachel blushes and doesn’t meet any of their eyes. “No, he’s always been such a… gentleman.”

“Us screwing was all my idea,” Santana says matter of factly. “Worst idea I’ve had maybe ever, but still. All my idea. Not his.”

“The time I kissed him, he didn’t even use tongue,” Brittany says. “I think he was afraid of my mouth.”

“So Finn Hudson sleeping with a near stranger just seems very out of character,” Quinn concludes, hoping that will put an end to the play by play of everyone’s experiences with Finn. “We definitely all agree.”

“There was one time Finn patted my shoulder for at least fifteen seconds,” Tina says very calmly, not even looking up from her nails, with a little smirk. “I should have held out for at least twenty, I suppose.”

“Well,” Quinn says, primly enough that’s she’s almost embarrassed for herself. “That’s probably enough about Finn Hudson. This is supposed to be about us girls.”

“And how we’re going to win tomorrow,” Santana says smugly. “Right?”

“Right,” Brittany agrees. “And then Mr. Schue has to ride with the luggage, because the trophy will have to use his ticket.”


	6. Normal Dudes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They might be the only normal dudes left in this whole school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes we get bored. That happened, so we made a [list of our BroTPs for this series](http://ravingliberal.tumblr.com/post/21219452408/sotb-rw-brotps). We will entertain questions. ;)

The first thing he’s grateful for is that neither of his parents put any blame on him. There’s no “we warned you about coming out” or “you knew this could happen” or anything like that. Taylor has enough of that running through his own head, anyway, and yeah, he’s still not sorry for speaking out like he did, but another part of him is screaming “told you so!”

Even with getting ambushed, though, the last two months as a whole have been less stressful. “Trany freak” and a couple of broken fingers, yeah, but he’s not had to play the whole mental worrying game of “does he suspect?” or “if I tell a few people, can I trust them not to tell?” He came out big and once it was out there, he’s been able to just assume people know, which is actually a huge relief. 

His dad doesn’t let him go to school on Monday, though, because he wants to talk to Figgins first. Taylor can guess how that will go: a lot of blustering, tripping over pronouns, and then carefully worded assurances to Taylor’s dad that of course, Professor Lange, student safety is his paramount concern. 

Tuesday, though, he’s going, and luckily his mom backs him up, even when his dad suggests another day to get used to the splint on his fingers. He gets up and studies his reflection for a minute. He’s glad the timeline for starting T got moved up, because it’s been over a month and he can’t see a single difference yet, but maybe before school starts back in the fall. Tuesday’s about what he expects, though, a lot of questions and a lot of staring and Taylor practices his best disinterested look. 

By last period, Taylor’s hand is starting to hurt, and he really wishes he did have some of the same pills as Rick. On the upside, Spanish is with Rick and _not_ Alicia, so he might actually have a chance at getting one or two. Alicia’s nice enough and all, but not sharing pills? A little too much toeing the line, right there. 

“Hey,” Taylor nods as he sits down next to Rick. “Think we can make the sub just turn on the TV?”

“We have a sub?” Rick asks. He squints up at the front of the room. “Oh, yeah. I guess she’s not Mr. Schuester, huh.”

Taylor laughs. “Nope, she’s a little too short. And too young, too.” He lowers his voice. “Seriously, Rick, you think I can have one or two of your pills?”

“I knew she was a sub,” Rick says. “I just forgot it after I sat down, is all. You think she wants a couple of my pills, too?”

“No, no,” Taylor says hurriedly. “Don’t mention your pills to her, okay?”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess I shouldn’t do that. Hey, did you want a couple of ’em? I’ve got, uh,” Rick digs his hand around in his pocket and comes up with four pills. “Some. I’ve got some.”

“Awesome!” Taylor quickly reaches across the aisle and grabs two, pocketing them. “Put those back up, Rick.”

Rick puts the other two pills back in his pocket. “Now, you can’t drive a tractor on those. Or a motorcycle. Or some other stuff. There’s a whole list, but I can’t remember what most of the things are. The list isn’t on the bottle, but Alicia told me a whole long list of heavy machines I’m not allowed to drive.”

“You aren’t allowed to drive them anyway,” Taylor says wryly. “But thanks, I’ll avoid taking out the motorcycle or whatever.”

“Shoot, you’ve got a motorcycle?” Rick asks. “That’s so cool, man. Your parents must be way cooler than mine.”

“Nah, it’s their motorcycle, but Mom says I can get my motorcycle license after I get my regular car driver’s license.”

“You’re gonna get all the girls, man. Maybe I oughta get me a motorcycle after I’m allowed to drive. You reckon Alicia would like a motorcycle?”

“Why don’t you ask her first?” Taylor suggests, but hey, maybe Rick’s right, if he could borrow the motorcycle sometimes and drive it to school. He could bring his mom’s helmet and offer rides. 

“’Cause she might tell me no.” Rick nods his head slowly, possibly to emphasize what he’s saying, but possibly for some unrelated reason. 

“Well, and if she likes the idea, she can help you pick it out. Go for some test drives, yeah?” Taylor grins. 

Rick’s whole face contorts, which might indicate an attempt at deep thought. Finally, he says, “That’s a good idea. You’re real smart, Taylor!”

Taylor laughs. “Thanks.” He glances up at the front of the room, where the sub is futilely attempting to lecture. “You want to skip and go watch the Cheerios practice? You know they start before last period’s over sometimes.”

“Damn, you _are_ real smart!” Rick grins. “We should go look at some Cheerios, ’cause of how mine’s the best looking one. You know how short those skirts are? They’re just… they are _real_ short, man, just real short.”

“Yeah, they are,” Taylor says appreciatively. “Come on, man. Let’s go investigate just how short they are.” He raises his hand. “Hey, I’m taking him to the bathroom, ’cause he’s on all kinds of meds.” He shakes his head sadly, and the sub just waves them off. Taylor grins and tugs on Rick’s sleeve, steering him out into the hallway. 

“You know what, man?” Rick says. “Brown and Casey and Karofsky and all them are cool guys and all of that, but it’s cool to hang out with a guy who appreciates girls. Only one of ’em who even wants to look at the Cheerios is Brown, and he says there’s no point in trying, on account of the cards.”

Taylor laughs. “Those cards are pretty damn funny, you have to admit, but I’m glad I’m not on one!”

“Poor Brown,” Rick says, shaking his head sadly. “He loves all the people, but them Cheerios sure don’t love him back.”

“But they can love us,” Taylor says, guiding Rick outside. “So we are definitely the lucky ones.”

“We might be the only normal dudes left in this whole school, man,” Rick says. “Everybody else around here is just plain nuts.”

“In narcotics veritas, my man.” 

“I got no idea what you said just now,” Rick says, nodding his head in agreement. “But it sounds pretty cool.”


	7. The Big Question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interviews with the Beiste.

Shannon doesn’t like the pieces that are starting to fit together in her mind, and sure, she’ll do some more talking to people come Monday, especially since so many of the kids she should talk to are headed home early, but with twenty minutes left in the school day, she decides to have the office send a message to Miles Brown. He can stop by her office before he starts his weekend. 

When Brown appears, leaning against her door frame, he doesn’t look like he hurried to get there. “Hey, Coach. You needed me for something?”

“Come in, Brown,” Shannon instructs him. “And shut the door.”

Brown shuts the door as instructed and then makes himself comfortable in one of the seats on the other side of her desk. “Am I in trouble or something?” Brown asks. 

“No,” Shannon answers him, “but I have some questions, and you’re the best person to start with.” As soon as she says it, she wants to smack herself, because the last thing the Brown kid needs is a larger ego, but in this case it happens to be true. “I’m a little concerned,” she says frankly. “I went to call Casey O’Brien’s emergency contact earlier. Tell me, Brown, do you know who answered?”

Brown smirks and moves his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. “Now, I’m not psychic or anything,” he says, “but if I had to guess, my money’s on it being Dave Karofsky. Am I right?”

“David Karofsky’s cell phone,” Shannon nods. “And while David’s a responsible young man, he’s also still a high school student.” She sighs. “I’m not even sure what questions to ask, yet, Brown, but I suspect you might have answers for them. Any insight?”

Brown relaxes in the chair, throwing one arm over the back of it and propping one ankle up on the other knee. “Oh, I got insight into the weird, weird world of Shep and Cherry, alright,” he says. “That’s a complicated situation right there, though. Kinda hard to explain.”

“I have the time,” Shannon says dryly. “And please drop the nicknames, Brown.”

“Alright, alright,” Brown says, putting up a hand in a way that’s probably supposed to seem apologetic. “I’m just so used to calling ’em that, I forget not everybody does.”

“Uh-huh.” Shannon’s not so sure about the veracity of that statement, but she’ll let it drop, for now. 

“Now, you know that whole backstory, right? With Casey’s, uh…” Brown doesn’t seem quite sure how to phrase it and actually looks somewhat uncomfortable. “Situation. What happened with him.” Shannon nods and indicates that Brown should continue. “Well, so you know he moved in with Karofsky after, right?” Shannon nods again. “And I guess you know the two of them are stupid in love with each other, right?”

“Um.” Shannon shakes her head at Brown. “I do try to stay out of my students’ personal lives, Brown. Regardless of whatever you believe is between them, I think it’s quite clear they are not dating.”

“Not officially or anything, no,” Brown agrees. “Not sure they have to do it all official–like, though. I mean, they’re together all the time. It’s less like they’re dating and more like, I don’t even know how to describe it. But hey, you asked for insight, and that’s stuff you’ve gotta know if you’re trying to figure out anything about either of them.”

“Hmm.” Shannon shakes her head again. “I’m less concerned with what might be considered typical teenage behavior and more concerned with the atypical, Brown.”

“Coach,” Brown says, shaking his head back at her. “There’s nothing even remotely typical about the two of them. Maybe you need ask something more specific.”

“Why don’t you give some examples, then, of what’s not typical?”

Brown frowns and looks thoughtful. “Well, it’s hard to think of something concrete. It’s just more of a feeling. Karofsky just sort of… takes care of things for the both of ’em. Makes sure stuff gets taken care of.”

“What kind of things does he take care of, exactly? Frankly, Brown, I’m concerned when my student tells me not to call another student’s legal guardian.”

Brown snorts. “They shoulda just put Shep—sorry, _Karofsky_ —down as the guardian. That would be more accurate, anyway.”

“And that’s what concerns me. Casey didn’t really have any active parenting, and what you appear to be telling me is that now Paul Karofsky’s letting his son parent Casey.”

“All due respect, Coach, but I don’t think Mr. Karofsky’s _letting_ Karofsky do anything,” Brown says. “I think it’s what Karofsky _wants_ to do, and I don’t think his dad could stop him if he tried. You watch him with that boy some time and you’ll know what I’m talking about.”

“And has anyone tried?”

Brown shrugs again. “Casey seems happy. Karofsky seems happy. Everything’s getting taken care of. It’s weird, but it seems to work out pretty good for the two of ’em. Anyway, Karofsky’s gonna be gone come the end of summer anyway, so it’s not like it’ll keep on next year.”

Shannon raises an eyebrow at the last sentence, because she knows when Karofsky has to report to Georgia Tech, and it’s just over a month, not the end of the summer. “No, I suppose it won’t,” she says finally. “Well, thanks for your time, Brown. You can skedaddle.”

Brown stands up and heads for the door, but before he opens it, he pauses and turns. “You won’t tell Cherry I told you this stuff, right?”

“Teacher–student conversations are generally confidential,” Shannon answers with what she hopes is a reassuring smile. 

Brown smiles back. “Alright, thanks. I don’t want him mad at me again, is all.” With that, he lets himself out of Shannon’s office, leaving the office door open. 

Shannon frowns as he disappears and quickly pulls out a notepad, writing down a few things as well as some questions that she’ll have to ask. She’ll try to talk to Rickenbacker on Monday, and maybe Lange as well. She taps the pen against the legal pad. Brittany and Santana, maybe, before the glee club leaves for Nationals, and Alicia Brown, too. Satisfied with her list, she puts the paper into her bag and gets ready to head home for the weekend. 

 

Monday morning, the first thing Shannon does is stop by the office. She’ll talk to Santana and Brittany during the morning, and they can wait to tell Rickenbacker to stop by until after lunchtime. Her questions are a little more focused this time, at least. 

Brittany and Santana show up during second period, and Santana knocks on the door with a raised eyebrow. “You needed to speak with us?”

“Come in, girls. I just had a couple of questions I was hoping you two could help me with. Oh, and Brittany, shut the door, if you would,” Shannon adds with a smile. 

Brittany shuts the door, and the two girls take seats. Brittany looks anxiously at Santana. “It’s fine, Britt-Britt,” Santana whispers to her. “Coach Beiste isn’t like Coach Sylvester.”

“I don’t want to be the hostage this time,” Brittany whispers back.

“No hostages,” Shannon says, wondering why exactly Brittany is afraid of being held hostage. Sue has some unorthodox methods, that’s for sure. “I wanted to ask you girls about Casey O’Brien and David Karofsky.”

“Casey’s favorite flavor is red,” Brittany says. “I don’t know Dave’s favorite flavor.”

“Red?” Shannon looks inquisitively at Brittany and then shakes her head. “Well, apart from favorite flavors. I’m more concerned with the amount of parenting Karofsky seems to be doing.”

Santana purses her lips slightly and then frowns, but doesn’t volunteer any information. Brittany looks sad, and says, “Casey’s daddy went to jail because he was bad.” Her face brightens a little, and she adds, “So now Dave has to be his daddy!”

Shannon’s thankful she’s not drinking anything, because she would have spluttered all over her desk when Brittany said that. “Yes. Well.” She absently underlines a word on the page in front of her. 

“Brittany,” Santana says very quietly. “No more…” Shannon can’t even make out the remainder of the sentence. 

“What do you mean?” Shannon asks anyway, on the off chance that one of them will give her a concrete example. Brittany presses her lips together tightly and shakes her head. Shannon sighs and nods a little, mostly to herself. “All right. Well, thanks for your time, girls. Break a leg in New York.”

“I thought she said we weren’t hostages,” Brittany whispers to Santana, as the two of them stand up to leave. “I don’t want my leg broken!”

“It means good luck, Britt,” Santana explains as they open the door. “Thanks, Coach.”

 

Rickenbacker slumps against Shannon’s door that afternoon during seventh period, and Shannon just waves him in, standing up to close the door herself. “How’re you feeling, Rickenbacker?”

“Hey, Coach,” Rickenbacker says, not making a move to sit down. “I feel great!”

“Have a seat, kid.”

Rickenbacker stares at her like he doesn’t understand what she’s saying to him, though he keeps grinning that same goofy grin he’s had on his face since he came to her office. Shannon frowns and puts her hand on his shoulder, guiding him towards one of the chairs and then pressing down on his shoulder until his knees bend and he’s more or less sitting down. 

“Rickenbacker, you want to talk to me about Casey O’Brien and Karofsky?”

“Naw, I wanna talk about Alicia,” Rickenbacker says, amicably. “Do you wanna talk about Alicia with me, Coach?”

“I’ll make you a deal, Rick. You talk to me about Karofsky and Casey first, and then you can talk to me about Alicia, alright?” Shannon winces as she makes the deal, hoping that he’ll forget about it before they get to that point. 

“Sure!” Rickenbacker says. “We were supposed to all go to the PFLAG movie night on Saturday, only it got canceled because of… of… well, I don’t know. Maybe somebody got lost.” He looks extra confused for a moment. “Or maybe we did go and I don’t remember it. I think I’d remember, but maybe I wouldn’t. Was I there, do you think?”

“I think I heard it was canceled, yeah,” Shannon agrees. “So Karofsky takes care of Casey, I’ve heard?”

“Did you hear that?” Rickenbacker still looks confused. “Just now? I don’t remember saying it.”

“Other places, Rick. Can you tell me about that?”

“I haven’t really been to a lot of other places, Coach. Mostly just Kentucky and Ohio. We been down to Tennessee a couple times, too.”

“Right.” Shannon sighs. “Focus, Rick. Karofsky takes care of Casey. Tell me how.” Whoever gave this kid narcotics and then sent him to school ought to have their license revoked. 

“I don’t think I should talk about that,” Rickenbacker says, giving Shannon a very suspicious look. Only Rickenbacker would be more guarded while medicated. 

“Why don’t you come back and see me later this week, all right?” Shannon finally says with a sigh. “Can you find your next class, Rick?”

“Nope!” Rickenbacker says, like he’s excited to be able to give the correct answer. 

“Come on, then,” Shannon stands with a sigh. “I’ll take you to the office until the bell rings.”

 

On Tuesday, Lange taps on her door during first period. “You wanted to see me, Coach?”

“Come on in, yeah, sit down.” Shannon closes the door and sits back down behind her desk. “How’s the hand?”

“Less pain,” he shrugs.

“Glad to hear it. Listen, I need to ask you a few questions about Casey O’Brien.”

“Is Casey in trouble?” Taylor asks.

“Oh, no, no, definitely not. I’m just concerned that Karofsky might be doing a little too much of the stuff that maybe Paul Karofsky ought to be handling.”

“Oh.” Taylor seems to relax a little at that. “I mean, yeah, Karofsky’s kind of overprotective, you know? Which I guess maybe I understand.” He rolls his eyes. “But I don’t really spend that much time around Karofsky? He’s always gone to dual enrollment or whatever in the afternoons, which is when I see Casey more. If Karofsky’s around, though, they’re practically glued at the hip.” He pauses. “Well, Casey’s hip to, like, Karofsky’s thigh,” he amends, snorting. 

“Huh.” Shannon nods a little. “Would it surprise you to know that Casey’s emergency contact number is actually Karofsky’s cell phone?”

Taylor laughs. “No, that doesn’t really surprise me.” He shrugs. “I’m not sure what else you need to know, though?”

“No, thanks, Lange, you’ve been helpful.” She writes him a pass from the rest of the period and he lets himself out. Alicia Brown pops by during third period, sitting down with a smile. 

“Hi, Coach. You wanted to see me?”

“Hey, Alicia, thanks for coming by. Yeah, I was hoping you could answer a few questions for me about Casey? And Karofsky, too, I guess.”

“I guess so, sure,” Alicia shrugs. “What about them? Casey seems to be doing pretty well after Friday. It helps those two thugs aren’t running around here anymore.”

“Good, good. No, uh, I just have gotten the impression that Karofsky maybe… takes care of Casey a little more than normal for two friends?”

“They’re so sweet, aren’t they? Daniel thinks they should just kiss already. But yeah, Karofsky looks out for Casey. They’re really funny at lunch when I eat over there. Karofsky’s always trying to get Casey to eat more. I know the cafeteria food is pretty gross, so I can’t blame Casey there, but even when he brings his lunch, sometimes he doesn’t eat much.” She lowers her voice. “Coach Sylvester would love him and make him give talks to the Cheerios if she knew.” 

Shannon laughs, because she knows what Alicia means. 

“Maybe he just doesn’t like eating in front of so many people or something. I think Karofsky’s just afraid Casey’ll blow away, like in those frozen dinner commercials.”

“Maybe so,” Shannon chuckles, because that is a pretty amusing image. “Anything else you’ve noticed?”

Alicia shakes her head. “No, but I’m not always around them, either. You should ask my brother or Daniel.”

Shannon nods. “Yeah, I’ll do that.” Well, she’ll talk to Rickenbacker once he’s off narcotic drugs, anyway. “Thanks for your time, Alicia.”

“No problem, Coach!” Alicia smiles brightly and stands up, leaving the room with a little wave. 

 

“Monty?” Shannon calls when she gets home on Tuesday afternoon. 

“I’m in the living room,” Monty calls back. “They’ve updated the odds on all the teams!”

Shannon shakes her head and grins ruefully. She never knew people bet on show choir. She’s pretty sure Will doesn’t realize it, either. “How are they figuring these odds?” she asks as she sits down in her chair with a cold pop. 

Monty leans over for his kiss before he answers, “Oh, it’s a complicated rubric that weighs the difficulty of their Regionals competitions versus the complexity of their anticipated set, and I think there’s also something in there about how often they use songs from _Cabaret_.”

“Does _Cabaret_ increase or decrease their odds of winning? And how’s McKinley look?”

“To be quite honest, I’m not really sure. I’ve asked, but no one’s been forthcoming. And McKinley being pegged for the top twenty, but not the top ten,” Monty explains. “According to the forums, there’s some concern about inappropriate behavior between their singers during duet numbers.”

Shannon laughs. “I don’t think we have to worry about Hudson making the same mistake twice. And they didn’t give Brittany and Santana a duet, I don’t think.” She takes a drink of pop. “But good for them, all of ’em.”

“Yes, they seem like lovely children,” Monty agrees. “If it couldn’t be my group, I’m glad it’s yours.”

“Next year’s your year, I keep telling you,” Shannon nods. “Remember I mentioned something seemed off with Casey O’Brien?”

“Oh, yes. The little boy with the troubled past.” Monty shakes his head sadly. “I swear, Shannon, I’d go through the schools and adopt all of them if I could.”

“Seems like David Karofsky’s beat you to it on Casey,” Shannon says with a sigh. “I don’t like what I’m finding out, Monty.”

“David is the large one, correct? Who’s going to Georgia Tech?”

“Yeah, that’s him. They’re best friends, I guess, but it seems like maybe Karofsky’s taken over the parenting.”

“Oh, dear,” Monty says. “That’s hardly appropriate. They can’t have more than, what? Two years’ difference between them? Quite a burden to put on a high school senior. Whose idea was that?”

Shannon snorts. “By all accounts, it was his own idea. But I don’t like it, and none of them seem to realize how soon Karofsky’s reporting to Tech, either. What’s Casey going to do in another month, rattling around with Paul Karofsky and no one else?”

“David Karofsky seemed like a nice enough boy when I met him on Signing Day, and you’ve spoken very highly of him. Surely Paul Karofsky’s at least moderately competent at parenting. Won’t he step up when David reports?” Monty frowns. 

“Well, the amount of parenting a sixteen-year-old David needed and the amount Casey needs— I’d say they’re pretty different, even if David did have that rough patch last year.” Shannon shakes her head. “I’m starting to think Casey’s at the Karofsky’s solely because of David, which isn’t good.”

“No, it really isn’t,” Monty agrees. “Perhaps you could arrange a meeting with Paul to talk about his plans for the next two years. Maybe he just hasn’t thought that far ahead. He was probably just adjusting to the idea of his parenting job being almost over, and might not really be thinking about having signed on for two more years.”

Shannon nods thoughtfully. “Yeah. I’m going to talk to a couple more kids tomorrow. See what they say. You got everything you need for tomorrow?”

“I’m doing a test run of the set-up tonight, just to be sure,” Monty says excitedly. “I think it’ll work wonderfully, though. Oh, and do let me know what the other children say. I hate to think of that dear little boy being left to his own devices after everything he’s been through.”

 

Shannon leaves the house on Wednesday morning with Monty already in his chair preparing for the Nationals competition to start livestreaming. She stops by the office and asks what class Rickenbacker has first, which lets her peek in and see that he looks considerably less stoned than he did before. She leaves a message on his locker for him to stop by and see her, and goes about her morning schedule. 

Monty sends her a text at lunchtime about New Directions’ performance. _NO KISS THIS TIME SHANNON. THEY DID SPLENDIDLY._ Shannon grins to herself and gets ready for the afternoon. 

Rickenbacker comes by Shannon’s office during the class change between lunch and fifth period. He taps on the door frame and says, “You wanted me to come see you, Coach?”

“Hey, Rickenbacker. Close the door and take a seat.” She pauses. “Feeling better?”

“Oh, yes ma’am,” Rickenbacker says. “Much better now. My ribs are hardly bothering me at all now and the doc says my head’s just fine.” He laughs once. “Well, as fine as it’s ever gonna be, anyway.”

“Good, good,” Shannon smiles. “So, I was wondering if you could answer a few questions for me about Casey and Karofsky.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Rickenbacker says. “Everything okay with them?”

“It seems like Karofsky does a lot of taking care of Casey,” Shannon begins. 

Rickenbacker grins and nods his head. “Yes, ma’am. Karofsky takes real good care of Casey.”

“About that. What kind of things does Karofsky take care of?” Rickenbacker doesn’t look at all suspicious this time; he looks downright pleased, even, to comment on how good a job Karofsky’s doing. 

“Well, he makes sure Casey’s eating like he should. Casey doesn’t really like to eat,” Rickenbacker explains. “And he drives him out to his appointments and stuff like that. Looks after him and mostly makes sure people don’t bother him.”

The picture that’s emerging in Shannon’s head is about what she had feared, and she frowns before deciding to just ask the big question. “So would you say that it’s Karofsky’s dad, really, that’s Casey’s guardian now, or just Karofsky?”

Now Rickenbacker does look slightly concerned. “I don’t really know Karofsky’s dad, Coach. He seems like a real good guy, though.”

“Oh, he is,” Shannon nods. “No one’s in any trouble here, Rick. Just trying to get a clearer picture of what things might be like in a couple of months, when Karofsky’s at Georgia Tech.”

Rickenbacker frowns and looks even more worried. “Well, Coach, just between you and me, I’m real worried about how Casey’s gonna handle it when Karofsky goes. I think it’s gonna break his heart.” He looks around the room. “Don’t tell anybody I said that. Brown already says I’m sappy as it is.”

Shannon smiles slightly. “I won’t, Rick. Is living at Karofsky’s house still going to make that better or worse, do you think?”

“I’m not real good at guessing that kind of stuff,” Rickenbacker says. “I can tell you that if I was living with somebody and I felt like that about ’em, and then one day they were gone, I’d probably be real broken up. And Casey, he’s real happy now mostly and all of that, but he’s still kinda…” 

“Someone to handle with care?” Shannon finishes. 

Rickenbacker appears to think it over, then nods his head. “But Karofsky, he’s good at handling Casey when he’s upset. He really does take good care of him,” he says, earnestly. 

“Oh, I’m sure he does,” Shannon nods, attempting to look reassuring. “Thanks for your help, Rickenbacker. You want a pass for the rest of this period?”

“Yes, ma’am, that’d be great,” Rickenbacker says, then the worried look is back on his face. “Coach?”

“Yes, Rick?”

“They’re not gonna take Casey away from Karofsky are they? ’Cause that’ll make them both really sad, I think.”

“No one’s taking anyone from anyone, Rick. But Karofsky’s leaving soon, anyway.” Shannon smiles a little. “We just need to make sure Casey does okay then, too, right?”

“Right,” Rickenbacker agrees. “Yeah, he’ll probably need somebody to help look after him then, too, I reckon.”

“Exactly,” Shannon nods. She writes the pass and hands it to Rick. “There you go.” Rick takes the pass and nods, then leaves the office, and Shannon shakes her head, writing down a few more things. Maybe she’ll talk to Karofsky himself, tomorrow. 

 

Shannon decides to stop and get some carry-out on the way home; she stayed late to inventory the weight room for the end of the year, and Monty’s probably all excited from watching all fifty performances at Nationals. She’s not even sure what time they all end, actually; the last of them might be still going, and then later there’s the announcement of the top ten or something, from what she understands. 

“Brought Chinese!” she announces when she steps into the house. 

“My angel of take-out!” Monty exclaims. 

“Are all of the performances over?” Shannon asks as she grabs a roll of paper towels and heads into the living room. 

“Yes, but you’re just in time for the recap before they announce the showcase!” Monty waves Shannon over. 

“Oh, good.” Shannon settles down and hands over Monty’s moo goo gai pan and egg rolls. “So New Directions did good?”

“Oh, Shannon, they were _wonderful_! I didn’t realize they’d written another original song this year!”

“Yeah, I think I heard Will mention it. Puckerman wrote the music for it, and Hummel wrote the lyrics.” Shannon grins a little. “But Hudson and Berry were going to sing it, right?”

“Yes, Mr. Hudson performed admirably, and the little Berry girl has so much vocal power,” Monty says. “Now, enough about show choir, though. You tell me all about your day.”

 

“You wanted to see me, Coach?” Karofsky appears at Shannon’s door during second period on Thursday. “I have a few minutes now, if this works?”

“Of course. Come on in and take a seat. I’ll get the door,” she adds. “So, not too long now until you report to Tech.”

“No, ma’am,” Karofsky agrees. “It’ll definitely be different.”

“Well, I know you’re going to do well.” Shannon sits down and regards him thoughtfully. “David, I have to admit that I have some concerns about Casey.”

“What about him?” Karofsky’s relaxed posture changes to tense in a split second. “Is something else going on?”

“Calm down, no, nothing’s going on,” she says quickly. “I just meant after you leave. And well, a little bit.”

Karofsky frowns. “What about after I leave?”

“Is it a fair assessment to say that you, more or less, take care of Casey?” She puts up a hand to forestall any immediate argument. “Driving him to the psychiatrist, making sure he eats enough, that kind of thing?”

“Well, yeah,” Karofsky frowns. “But. I mean.” 

Shannon nods slowly. “I’m gonna be honest with you, David, because I think you deserve that. Calling Casey’s emergency contact number and getting you at dual enrollment was a real wake-up call— for _me_. I think the adults around here have been more than happy to let you pick up their slack when it comes to Casey, and I know you don’t mind doing those things for your friend. But I don’t know that it’s the best situation, and I know it’s not going to be the best situation once you leave.” She eyes him shrewdly. “How many of your friends even know you’re leaving before July?”

Karofsky sighs. “Yeah, no one’s really asked, and I think Evans leaves mid-July, and Hudson not until the end of July, so it’s not like there’s any reason to think it’d be earlier, is there?” He shakes his head. “Just, you know. Case’s had a hard time.” He looks like he starts to say something else, then stops and is silent for awhile. “I don’t mind doing any of what I’ve been doing.”

“No, I didn’t say you did,” she agrees. “We’re on the same side, David. Just trying to figure out what’s best for Casey, especially come next school year.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Karofsky agrees, then stands up. “I, uh, I should go review my history stuff one more time, I guess.”

“Of course. Good luck on that exam.”

“Thank you.” Karofsky lets himself out of the office quietly, and Shannon spends the next thirty minutes or so formulating a plan, first in her head and then on paper. She folds up the papers and tucks them into a drawer, locking the drawer before teaching her next two classes. She’s just walked into the break room for lunch and taken a seat across from Emma when her phone dings at her. 

“’Cuse me a second,” Shannon nods at Emma, pulling out her phone. She reads the text from Monty. 

“Is everything okay, Shannon?” Emma asks. “You look surprised about something!”

“Oh, yeah, everything’s fine.” Shannon looks up and grins. “Everything’s real good.”


	8. 3x33 Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apartment hunting and job hunting; guess who's eating the snails and the comfortable duck?; The White Ranger, the badass pilot, and the chick that looks like Shelby; Performances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Playlist for 3x33 part II](http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLEEE34D2BF49A8D38)
> 
> (with one GLARING HOLE)

Finn’s woken from a deep sleep by the sound of ‘Judas’ and there’s a moment where he’s not sure where he is, why he’s there, why he’s sort of a little sore all over, or whether or not he’s actually awake or he’s having some kind of bizarre Lady Gaga nightmare, then Puck shifts against him on the bed and everything falls back into place, mentally speaking.

“Up now?” Puck murmurs softly into Finn’s ear.

“I think that depends on what you mean by up,” Finn says.

“Awake,” Kurt yawns from the other side of Puck. “We have to eat by 8:30. Even though it only takes ten minutes to get to the meeting from here.”

“Schue–logic.” Puck sighs. “At least the food’s free. We can spend more on dinner.”

“Do you think they’ll have waffles?” Finn asks, stretching out on the bed as much as he can, which means one of his legs goes completely across Puck’s legs. “I love those little waffle maker machine things with the handles.”

“I was thinking scones,” Puck says, shrugging. “I hope we block early or late.”

“I hope early,” Finn says, gradually rolling in Puck’s direction. “By the way, dude?”

“Mmmhmm?”

“Steamroller,” Finn announces, and rolls all the way on top of Puck. Kurt pushes against his side, which feels like nudging.

“Asshole,” Puck grunts.

“I’m going to eat all the scones and waffles,” Kurt announces. “While you two are ridiculous.”

“I was just lying here!”

“You’re still just lying there,” Finn says. “Only now you’ve been steamrollered. Tough break, asshole!”

“I’m going to eat all of your food,” Puck threatens. “As soon as you go get your clothes on, I’m going to sprint to the food and eat everything you like.”

“So, I should stay here all day, then?” Finn asks.

“Then you wouldn’t get to eat it, either, so sure, that works.” Puck smirks.

“Hey, if I get too hungry, I’ll just eat you,” Finn says. “How’s that work for you?”

Kurt starts nudging at Finn’s side again. “ _Ridiculous_. Remember we’re supposed to wear our red HRC T-shirts this morning.”

“It’ll be sad that Puck can’t go, because he’s been eaten,” Finn says, making his voice as sad as possible. “Hey, could you bring me back a waffle or something?”

“No.” Kurt rolls out of bed and walks into the tiny room with the toilet. “I also won’t make any more excuses for you. You do need to figure out what movie you purportedly fell asleep watching.”

“That’s easy,” Finn says, rolling off of Puck, because that’s obviously what he’s supposed to do now. “It was one of Puck’s romcoms and it was boring and made no sense, and I fell asleep about fifteen minutes in.”

“Shut up, asshole,” Puck frowns at him, poking Finn’s leg with his toe. “ _You_ make no sense.”

“Ok, ok. Something from the ’90s with lots of explosions?”

“Also flannel.” Kurt walks back into the room and stands in front of the mirror, squinting at himself.

“You look awesome,” Finn says.

Kurt looks at him strangely and shakes his head. “Is the breakfast off the lobby, baby?”

“Second floor,” Puck answers, pulling on a pair of jeans. “With coffee.” He pauses. “Also, Starbucks down the street.”

“We can have coffee both places,” Finn says. “I think I need coffee both places. Possibly more than once.”

“Multiple coffees,” Kurt agrees, finally turning away from the mirror and finding his clothes. “Maybe there will be more coffee between here and the meeting.”

Finn puts on the jeans and T-shirt he brought with him last night. “I guess I need to go get my red shirt,” he says. “Meet you back here or downstairs? It’ll only take a second.”

“Downstairs,” Kurt says after a moment. “You could use your toiletries, too, you know.”

“Are you saying I smell bad?” Finn asks.

“I’m just saying that brushes and pastes and soaps were packed for a reason, darling.”

“Picky,” Finn says. “Fine. I’ll go use all those things, but just so you know, if I smell bad, it’s _your_ fault for making me that way.”

“Yes, yes, I’ll take _all_ of the blame.” He pauses. “No, I’ll make you take all the blame. Puck will help me.”

Puck shrugs. “Probably true. Sorry, dude.”

“I see how it is,” Finn grumbles. “Ganging up on me. Is this gonna be a pick on Finn day, ’cause if so, I’ll just go ahead and get ready for it.”

“Only until breakfast.”

“Kinda extra mean to do it before I’ve even had coffee.”

“But this way, it’s for less time,” Puck says, his words muffled as he pulls on his T-shirt. “Dude, we’re never going to _get_ coffee at this rate.”

“Fine! Going! Going!” Finn says, opening the door and looking into the hallway. Nobody else is out there, so he steps out of Puck and Kurt’s room and shuts the door behind himself. He walks to his own room, if it’s officially even really his room if he hasn’t slept there yet, and lets himself in with the keycard.

“Hey, Artie,” he says.

‘Oh, hi, Finn. You fell asleep in Kurt’s room, huh?” Artie’s already dressed in his red T-shirt, which should make Kurt happy, or at least happier, maybe.

“Yeah. Some weird ’90s movie. Explosions. Flannel. You know how it is.”

“I must have missed that one,” Artie says. “Are you heading down now or later.”

“Later. I smell,” Finn says. “Like, uh, one does when one sleeps in, uh, one’s clothes. On the top of the hotel bed covers.”

Artie shakes his head like he has no idea what Finn’s talking about, but is going to be all polite and not saying anything about it. “Well, I’ll see you downstairs, then,” Artie says. Finn holds the door open for him and then lets it close after Artie rolls down the hall toward the elevator. He grabs his bag of toiletries and takes a quick shower, brushes his teeth, and then fishes his red T-shirt out of his suitcase. Hopefully that’ll make Kurt a little happier, too.

Finn rides the elevator down to the second floor. He turns to the right after he steps out of the elevator, following the smell of food and the little tiny signs that says ‘continental breakfast’ with the arrow pointing in that direction. Puck and Kurt are sitting at a table with one extra seat, and Finn waves at the two of them before stepping into the food line and loading as much onto his plate as he can make fit.

“Hey,” he says, as he sits in the empty chair at Puck and Kurt’s table.

“Hello again,” Puck says with a very slight smirk.

“No waffles, darling. I see you found the scones, though.”

“I did,” Finn says, making a sweeping hand motion over his plate. “All kinds of other stuff, too.” Kurt seems like he’s in a better mood, so maybe he just needed to eat.

“You missed the chance to listen to Schue talk to Ms. P, aren’t you devastated?” Kurt asks, raising one eyebrow.

“Why? Was it gross adult sex talk stuff?” Finn asks, stuffing a forkful of some kind of fruit salad stuff into his mouth. “Does he babytalk?”

“Sex talk would have been less gross,” Puck says, rolling his eyes. “It was ten minutes straight of ‘I miss you’ and ‘I wish you could have come here, too’ and ‘New York isn’t the same without my lovemuffin’. Yes. Lovemuffin.”

“Lovemuffin?” Finn asks. He looks at the blueberry muffin on his plate, then deliberately picks it up and sets it on his napkin. “Ok, officially not eating that now.”

“Sorry.” Puck shrugs. “It was pretty disgusting. I think maybe they’re getting married or something, he kept talking about honeymoons.”

“The discussion of which he thankfully tabled,” Kurt adds, doing that dramatic shudder he does.

“They’re getting married? That’s cool. He hasn’t mentioned it to us or anything,” Finn says.

“I can’t imagine that Ms. P wants a huge announcement considering her last _two_ weddings,” Puck snorts. “It’s sort of sad. For her, I mean. Schue, not so much.”

“Well, I guess not everybody gets it right the first time,” Finn says, shrugging. “Are you gonna eat that pastry thing?” He points his fork at Puck’s plate.

Puck rolls his eyes but picks it up and puts it on Finn’s plate without saying a word. Kurt’s just shaking his head. “Of course not everyone does, but it does seem a shame that Ms. Pillsbury remained unable to find happiness twice.”

“Maybe she’s just got really bad luck?” Finn takes a bite of his pastry. “Oh, this is really good. Do you want this back?”

“You can owe me.”

“Ok, that sounds good.” He eats the rest of the pastry thing in two bites. “So, what do you think? Good luck or bad luck with the blocking time?”

“What we think is good luck, the rest of them might think is bad,” Puck says. “But I’m still crossing my fingers for early.”

“I’m fine with early. I mean, I’m up anyway, so may as well be blocking. What else am I gonna do with the rest of my morning?” Finn eats the last few pieces of fruit off his plate and sets his fork down.

“I’m sure some people would say ‘go back to sleep’ but that seems wasteful as well,” Kurt says, nodding, then looks at his phone. “We have ten minutes before we’re supposed to meet in the lobby; shall we attempt to get coffee first?”

“I didn’t think I was _allowed_ to go back to sleep,” Finn says, but he says it quietly. “Yeah, coffee sounds like an epically good idea.”

Kurt stands up and collects his trash, then looks around and frowns, before setting it back down. “Apparently we leave it on the table. Odd.” He shrugs a little and leads the way out of the breakfast room, back to the elevators. “Don’t forget,” he adds, pulling out his phone as the elevator door opens in front of them.

“Check in?” Finn asks.

“Mmmhmm.” Kurt giggles. “I’m surprised we haven’t gotten a text or a call from them yet.”

“Yeah, I’m not holding my breath about hearing from mom,” Finn says.

 

There’s a collective inhalation when they walk into the huge room for the opening meeting. Puck isn’t sure how the high school show choir national championship ended up having Radio City Music Hall for a venue, but it’s pretty damn sweet. Schue leads them over to an empty corner and disappears for twenty minutes, while they watch a highlights reel of the last twenty years of show choir champions that is on a screen every eight feet or so. When Schue finally returns, he’s carrying a big white envelope and beaming.

“Great news, everyone!” Everyone exchanges glances before staring at Schue. “Our blocking time is in thirty minutes. After that, we’ll be free for the day.”

“Excellent,” Kurt murmurs, nodding to himself, and Puck nods, too. Having to come back in the middle of the afternoon would have put a crimp in everyone’s plans, not just theirs.

“We’re getting a lot of attention,” Sam says suddenly, glancing around the room. There are more than a few glances directed at them, from different groups.

“We do all match,” Tina responds.

“And at least one of us is rather famous on the Internet,” Santana smirks. “Thanks to yours truly.”

“Yes, thank you,” Kurt says sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Ever so appreciated. I think I’m going to have to abandon that twitter account, you know.”

Sure enough, a few minutes later, Kurt’s approached by a chubby boy wearing a polo shirt embroidered with some kind of school logo. “Are you Kurt Hummel?”

Kurt blinks just once and Puck can see the barely–there sigh as Kurt straightens just a bit. “I am.”

“I saw you on YouTube,” the boy says, sounding a little too excited about it. “Your speech was _amazing_!”

Finn takes a step so he’s in between the overeager pudgy boy and Kurt. “Yeah, we’re here for show choir, so you’d better go. Over there. To your show choir.” Finn points towards a cluster of similarly-dressed kids. “Now.”

The pudgy boy starts to protest, but Finn crosses his arm and looms, and the boy recoils and then flees back to his group. Kurt presses his lips together, trying not to laugh, but once the boy is gone, he turns to Santana and raises his eyebrows. “See what you’ve done, Satan?”

“Hey, I don’t have anything to do with your protective detail.” She shrugs. “Deal.”

“He shouldn’t be creepering at you like that,” Finn insists. “It’s creepy. And, uh, unprofessional.”

“Show choir seems to attract a disproportionate number of creepers,” Puck muses. “Next one we just send straight to Santana.”

“That does work for me,” Kurt agrees. “Alternatively, we tell them that Mike is actually me.”

“Hey!” Mike laughs. “That’d confuse them.”

“Precisely.”

“Don’t worry,” Finn leans over to stage whisper in Kurt’s direction, as Mr. Schue starts herding them towards a door that probably leads to a rehearsal space. “I won’t let the next one get that close.”

Kurt suppresses another laugh and nods. “I’m sure.”

“Oh, heyyy,” an extremely mellow, but familiar voice says from behind. “Kurt, Noah, what’s up?”

Finn crosses his arms over his chest again and turns to glare at Zachary. “His name’s _Puck_ and no more YouTube fans,” Finn says, then looks confused. “Wait, how would you know Puck if you’re from YouTube?”

“Is Kurt on YouTube, too?” Zachary asks. “I haven’t seen that one, but I have seen yours, sir. Yes, I have, and it was almost as excellent as seeing it in person.”

Puck starts laughing somewhere around ‘YouTube fans’ and can’t stop himself from laughing harder as Zachary talks. Kurt’s giggling a little and shaking his head, but looking at Finn curiously, obviously content to see where Finn goes with this.

“What YouTube video?” Finn asks, cocking his head to the side. “Seeing what in… oh, no, wait. I know who you are. The stoned one, right?”

“I would argue with you if that weren’t absolutely, one hundred percent accurate,” Zachary says, grinning and nodding. “And you’re the brother. The giant, giant brother with the tiny girlfriend.”

“Ex-girlfriend,” Kurt says matter of factly. “How are you, Zachary?”

“Good, good, I’m doing great, actually,” Zachary responds. “I mean, I’ll be honest with you, we have about a snowball’s chance in hell this year, but that’s life for you. How about you guys?”

“Can’t complain,” Puck answers with a grin. “Or we could, but we’d just be big whiners.”

“We can’t have that,” Kurt says with a roll of his eyes. “Are you wearing a monkey costume again?”

“Nah, Carmen—that’s my girlfriend-ish person—came down with strep and couldn’t come on the trip. I mean, not the end of the world for her. She’s a junior and has another shot at it, but she was our lead vocalist on one of our songs, and the girl filling in for her just doesn’t have the range,” Zachary sighs.

“Maybe you _should_ try the monkey costume, to distract from that?” Puck grins. “Plus, pictures.”

“I don’t know where I could get a monkey costume this late in the game, but I’ll keep that in mind, sir.” Zachary grins at all of them. “And on that note, looks like you guys are going in, so I’ll go see a man about a monkey costume and catch you guys later. Nice meeting you, giant brother with the tiny _ex_ -girlfriend.”

Finn nods his head once in response, and Zachary lopes away, hopefully in the correct direction to find his own show choir, though it’s possible he’s just heading in a random direction.

“Who was _that_?” Rachel demands, sounding more like a bird squawking than anything else.

“Zachary,” Puck answers, as if she should know who that is, and it’s a little bit of an effort not to smirk obviously at her.

“Who— why— ” Rachel splutters for another moment before crossing her arms, obviously not happy about being talked about. Puck’s just not sure if it’s the events of the year before or the ‘ex’ part that’s making her more unhappy.

“Where’s he from?” Tina asks. “I couldn’t place an accent.”

“Arizona,” Kurt answers her. “Outside Phoenix, I think.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure he was stoned,” Finn announces.

“Oh.” Rachel blinks. “Really?”

Puck rolls his eyes. “You couldn’t tell? Yeah, he was stoned. Which…” Puck looks at Kurt. “Was he ever _not_ stoned, before?”

Kurt shakes his head. “No. Definitely stoned every time I saw him.”

“How did he get drugs on the plane?” Rachel sounds utterly scandalized, like she’s personally responsible for the TSA agent that Zachary walked past, or something.

“I think drugs find him,” Puck says after a moment, snorting. “The universe knows he needs pot, and the pot makes its way to him.”

“Well, either way, he almost got bouncered,” Finn says. “Bounced. Whatever.”

“He probably didn’t even see the video. Or, if he did, he was high, and consequently doesn’t remember or care,” Kurt points out as they head through a much smaller door into a corridor that obviously isn’t generally accessible to the public.

“Well,” Finn repeats, like that’s all the response that’s required.

“Did you hear what he said, though? Their lead vocalist isn’t performing!” Rachel exclaims. “We all need to be very careful throughout our performance time tomorrow. Mr. Schue! What is our performance time?”

“We’re slated for the morning block of performances,” Schue answers her after shuffling some papers. “We’ll find out which section of five and order within our section when we arrive here in the morning.” He stops abruptly in front of a door. “This is it, guys. This is a rehearsal room for the Rockettes! And it’s where we block.”

“Wait, I thought we were blocking on stage,” Finn says, his eyes narrowing. “How is this gonna help? We need the _stage_.” A note of panic starts to creep into his voice. “I mean, what if we’re stepping too far forward? We could fall off the stage. Mr. Schue, we _need_ the stage!”

“I absolutely agree, Mr. Schue! Last year we were provided blocking time on the stage, and while I realize that this is a different venue, surely they realize the importance of blocking in the actual performance space. How can we get reassigned to the groups that block on the actual stage?” Rachel speaks rapidly, her eyes wide.

“No one blocks on the actual stage, Rachel,” Schue says calmly. “The dimensions of this rehearsal room are—”

“No, this is _not_ going to work,” Finn announces. “There’s no way. This isn’t what’s supposed to be happening.” He starts pacing back and forth across the rehearsal space, gesturing wildly. “We’re supposed to block on the stage. This isn’t the stage. It’s not the same and how can we know how it looks on the stage if we aren’t even on the _stage_!” Finn looks like he’s about to have a panic attack, and Puck shakes his head slightly. _He’s_ the one with the Xanax and the need for it, not Finn, and it’s not like he and Kurt can exactly calm him down right there in the middle of everyone. Well, Kurt can do brother-things, but Puck’s starting to wonder if that’s going to be enough.

“Finn. _Finn_ ,” Kurt says calmly. “Finn, the room is same as the stage. The professionals use this room instead of blocking on the stage. It’s a vote of, uh, confidence, all right?” Kurt exchanges a quick glance with Puck, just enough for Puck to realize that Kurt is completely improvising here and has no clue if what he’s saying is true or not. “They’re treating us like professionals. We’re going to block in here and be able to transfer it to the stage. Just like the Rockettes.”

Finn pauses in his pacing. “Just like the Rockettes?”

“Yes.” Kurt nods his head emphatically. “Just like the Rockettes.”

“So the room… the room’s ok?”

“The room is perfectly fine. In fact,” Kurt looks at Mike for a moment. “Remember how Mike’s had us rehearse in lots of places? I bet the other groups haven’t done that. They aren’t prepared for this like we are.”

“Yes! Exactly!” Luckily Mike picks up on Kurt’s cue. “They’re not going to be able to uh, transfer it. Like we are.”

Finn nods his head slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, ok. I bet they’re all freaking out about the rooms, right?” He looks at Kurt like Kurt’s going to fix everything.

“Right. They’re going to be very panicked.”

“But we’re prepared. We’ve got this.” Finn seems to visibly relax. “Ok. Right.” He takes a deep breath, then continues. “We should take our places, then. Right, Mike?”

Mike nods, grinning just a little. “Right. Let’s show those other groups how it’s done.”

Kurt may have been making everything up on the spot just to calm Finn down, but it’s mostly true; because they’ve practiced in enough different places, they don’t have any trouble with blocking in a new space, and they really shouldn’t have a problem with getting up on the stage the next day. And yeah, a lot of groups probably haven’t done any rehearsal in various spaces.

When they finish a full run-through, Schue claps enthusiastically and just beams at them, not even speaking, and everyone turns and looks at Finn instead.

“That was really great, you guys,” Finn says, looking much calmer than he did before they started. “I’m proud of us. We were good before, but we really pulled it together this year. We’ve got this. We came here to win it and that’s what’s gonna happen. It’s not optional, got it?”

“Right!” Tina’s the first to respond, while Puck’s trying to figure out if that means Finn’s going to send all of them back in boxes or something if they don’t win. Most days, he’d say no, but every once in awhile, Finn does get— well, something. They’ll just have to keep him calm. One way or another.

There’s a general murmur of agreement once Tina speaks, though, everyone nodding. “Got it,” Puck finally answers, since maybe Finn wants a direct answer.

“Good, good.” Finn nods. “See? We’re totally ready for this!”

“Does that mean it’s time to see the town?” Mike looks over at Schue very briefly before continuing. “Since we’re not writing our songs the night before, I mean.”

“My dad gave me his credit card so I could go to the American Girl store!” Brittany chirps. “Santana said she’d help me pick out the best one.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Schue suddenly says. “Kurt, you had some suggestions? Of things to see?”

Kurt smirks as he opens his bag, pulling out a small stack of papers and nodding. “I do.”

“I hear the Circle Line Tour rocks,” Finn says, looking at the sheet of paper Kurt hands him. “You guys should totally do that one if you get a chance!”

“We talked about doing that last time,” Quinn says. “We should go this time!”

“Remember dinner is at 7!” Schue calls after them as they’re filing out of the room and into the hallway leading towards the street. “Rachel, remember, since you’re still a minor, you need to stay with someone from the group at all times.”

“When did Mr. Schue start being a good chaperone?” Finn whispers to Puck. “Do you think Ms. Pillsbury gave him a pamphlet about it?”

“ _So You’re Taking Twelve Seniors to New York City_ , bestseller,” Puck nods his agreement.

“ _Hookers, Booze, and High School Students Don’t Mix!_ ” Finn suggests.

“Because the first thing Schue thinks of with regard to New York City probably would be hookers and booze,” Kurt says matter of factly as they finally step onto the sidewalk. He slides on his sunglasses and looks over at Puck. “What time are we meeting Allison?”

“Fifteen minutes, give or take,” Puck shrugs. “But 50th St station this time.”

“Right by the Gershwin,” Kurt promptly adds. “And there should be more coffee on the way.”

“You always say the sexiest stuff,” Finn says. “Coffee on the way.”

“I know how to keep you happy,” Kurt smirks. “Don’t I?”

Finn grins. “Maybe. I forget.”

“Perhaps I’ll remind you.” Kurt pauses and his smirk gets bigger. “Later.”

“I might have forgotten completely by then,” Finn says. “I might need a _lot_ of reminding.”

They finally turn a corner, completely away from the others, and Finn flings his arms across their shoulders, pulling them closer. Puck’s hand finds Kurt’s against Finn’s back and they keep walking down the street as Puck grins a little. “A lot of reminding, hmm?”

“Hey, not the smart one, remember?”

“Wasn’t complaining.”

“Good thing,” Finn says, bumping his hip against Puck as they continue walking.

“Maybe we’ll none of us be that smart this evening,” Kurt muses almost absently. “We can all… assist each other.”

“Imagine that.” Puck grins. When they reach the door to the Starbucks, they squeeze through it awkwardly and sideways, which probably isn’t going to work when they leave with actual coffee in their hands. Puck orders for all three of them so that it’s cheaper, and they do disentangle before walking out of the store and across the street, where Allison emerges just a few moments later.

“Oh good, you’re here already!” she greets them. “And no coffee for me?” She pouts a little.

“You’ll survive,” Puck says with a grin.

“You want a sip of mine?” Finn holds out his cup.

“Sure!” Allison accepts the cup, takes off the lid and takes a sip before replacing the lid. “Ahhh. Maybe I’ll make it until we pass a store for me.”

“Try not to pass out or die or anything,” Finn says. “I’ll end up lost in New York and I’ll never find my way back to the hotel.”

“I’m strangely reminded of the Garanimals conversation,” Kurt says with a frown, then shakes his head like he’s clearing it. “Regardless, yes, Allison, please don’t lose our Finn.”

“I’m easy to misplace,” Finn says, with a shrug.

“It’s your small stature, dude.”

Allison laughs. “Yes, I don’t think losing him will be a problem.” She turns to Finn. “So, what do you want to see? We have a beautiful, school–free day, and a city full of interesting people, places, things, and food.” She grins. “Personally I vote for an assortment of each.”

“Sure, wherever you think we should go,” Finn says. “I trust you! I mean, probably I shouldn’t, since you seem to like these guys for some reason, but I trust you.” He winks in Puck and Kurt’s direction. “Wait, what time am I supposed to be back? And where am I supposed to be back to?”

“Dinner’s at seven,” Puck answers, “but…” He shrugs. “Meet us somewhere over on the Upper West around 5:30 or 6?” he suggests to Allison, who nods her agreement.

“I will bring him back to you. We’ll text, okay?” With that, Allison tugs once on Finn’s T-shirt sleeve and starts leading him southward down Broadway. “First,” Puck can hear her saying. “Did you know about M&M’s World?”

 

“I didn’t know M&M’s came in that many colors,” Finn says, looking at the probably too–big bag of multicolored M&M’s he spent way too much money on. “Some of these, I’m not even sure what to _call_ the colors.”

Allison laughs. “I know! The thing that gets me, though, is someone gets _paid_ to come up with all of these colors.”

“See? And here I’m going to college for football and music teaching and whatever, when I could just be moving out here and mixing colors together,” Finn says. “I could do that job.”

“They probably have some kind of ridiculous requirement. A degree from M&M College!” She shakes her head. “Imagine having that on your wall. So, seriously, what do you want to see? I know no heights.”

“ _Not_ the Circle Line Tour,” Finn says. “And, uh, I’ve already seen Central Park. Well, parts of it, anyway.”

“Right, no Circle Line. Well, the Park’s huge, honestly, but we’ll see what else we find. Museums? Grand Central? Some of the ethnic neighborhoods? The High Line is sort of the new thing to see.”

“Is that another tour? I think I should skip the tours.”

“No, not a tour!” Allison promises. “It’s a new park. Oh, and we could go over by the piers. No need to actually board a boat.”

“I don’t have a problem with boats,” Finn shrugs. “Well, unless they’re boats that are going to go up high, I guess. But, yeah, we can see the new park, and, I dunno, just wherever. I’ll probably come out here at least a couple of times over the next few years, so I don’t have to see it all today.”

“Great!” Allison nods and leads them towards yet another subway stop, talking about the different numbers and letters for the different trains. “And food, of course. What did you have last night?”

“Korean street food,” Finn says. “It was spicy.”

“You like spicy?” Allison waits for him to nod before continuing. “We can definitely find some good stuff.”

“Yeah, extra spicy, extra meat,” Finn answers, grinning at Allison. “Nothing vegan.”

“Ooh, there’s an Indian place in the East Village, we should go there. No extra charge for extra meat.”

“Yes, we should go to that place, like, _now_ ,” Finn says.

Allison laughs. “So basically I should have planned the food tour of Manhattan?”

“See, knew there was a reason I liked you!” Finn smiles broadly at Allison. “So let’s just re-plan our day, now that we’re both on the same page.”

“Of course you like me.” Allison looks a little smirky. “Why wouldn’t you?” She stops at a corner and looks around for a few seconds before nodding. “Okay, this way. We can get dessert first.”

“You’re my favorite new friend,” Finn announces. “Any time I come to New York, I’ll let you give me tours.”

“Excellent. We’ll branch out sometimes, go into one of the other boroughs. You’ll be my guinea pig; if the whole music thing doesn’t work out, I’ll start one of those tour companies. ‘Food Across the Five’ maybe. Do you think it’d catch on?”

“I’d send everybody I know your way, anyway. So, what kind of dessert exactly?”

 

Meeting at the subway stop where the 1 train is means that they don't have to switch trains, they just climb on and go towards 72nd. "What time is the appointment again?" Puck asks Kurt.

"One-thirty," Kurt confirms after a quick look at his iPad. "So even with time for lunch, we should at least be able to get a few other things marked off our list."

Puck nods. "That continental breakfast seems long long ago suddenly."

"Never a dull moment." Kurt sighs as the train comes to a stop and they get off, heading back up to the street before pausing to look around. "Well." They scan the area, re-orienting themselves. "Starbucks?"

"Makes sense." They head towards the Starbucks within sight, and Puck reflects on how weird this entire experience is. He was 'Noah' in New York, which was strange enough at first, but now it's even odder, because he's 'Puck' with the people from Lima, 'Noah' to people from New York, and Kurt's the only one shifting with him, using the name that's expected regardless.

Add to that the fact that they're looking for jobs and a place to live when there's still two and a half months before they'll be back, and Puck thinks it's really a sign of how completely well-adjusted they must be that they aren't already going crazy.

Either that, or they're so completely crazy that they think they're actually well-adjusted.

Now that he considers it, either possibility seems equally likely, so he concentrates on checking in every few feet on foursquare and imagining what Carole and Burt must be thinking by this point.

"I'll look to see if there's any other potential places for me to check while you talk," Kurt offers, and Puck nods as Kurt takes a seat near the window.

Ms. Horatio had reminded him the week before that she'd actually talked to a few managers at some of the stores on the Upper West Side, but she wasn't sure exactly which ones, which means that Puck definitely isn't sure which ones might have a clue what he's doing there. He wonders a little _what_ she said to the other managers, but figures as long as it was good, he'll take it.

The manager isn't in, but apparently will be after three, so Puck makes a note to come back later if they have time, and they leave, their next stop at a tiny auto repair place run by a guy who looks disbelievingly at Kurt when he says he's looking for a job starting in August. Puck's not sure if he's disbelieving because it's almost three months away, because Kurt wants a part-time position, or because, well, there they are. Two guys holding hands, still dressed in identical HRC T-shirts, and the pale lithe one, to steal Finn's word, is the one who works on cars.

Could be all of that combined.

But the guy starts listening to Kurt after he talks about his mechanic tests and the hours he's put in, pulling out a sheaf of paperwork and explaining his experience with all of the stuff that Puck never really comprehends, and after about ten minutes, Puck inclines his head down the street slightly and moves his hands just enough for Kurt to nod. There's five or six restaurants all within a block, delis and bakeries and Italian and Middle Eastern, and the hardest part's figuring out which place to get food from. By the time he decides on a place and then on what to get each of them, it's been at least twenty minutes, but when he walks back up to the garage doors, Kurt's just finishing, shaking hands with the guy and smiling.

"Good news?" Puck asks, handing Kurt his plate.

"Oh, god, thank you, I'm famished," Kurt says first. "But yes, good news. Once we got past the shock of the effeminate young gay man being a competent mechanic, he was surprisingly open-minded and easy to work with. Sixteen to twenty-four hours a week, decided by the semester, and he'll work with me over school breaks." Kurt beams. "And oh my god, baby. I know everything's more expensive here, but the _pay_."

"Yeah?" Puck grins. "I could tell he was surprised."

"So much an hour!” Kurt shows him a piece of paper. “It sounds ridiculous but he says most of the mechanics in the City make more than they would anywhere else, so."

"Sweet." Puck grins. "See, we'll make it work. Somehow."

"Yes." Kurt falls silent for a minute as they continue walking up Amsterdam towards the Tecumseh Playground, which is apparently the best marker of where the rental agents' office is. They're greeted cordially, put in a waiting room, and then various people come to ask them questions and to make copies of documents, which they do thankfully have, before they're left to wait for ten minutes.

Finally, someone else appears, and this time it's an actual agent or whatever. He looks a lot more enthusiastic than any of the other people did. Puck figures that means they actually looked at all those documents and realized they weren't wasting their time.

"Well, gentlemen," the man says with a smile, "I'm Steve Phillips. I understand you're looking for something available in August?"

"On or about the first of August, preferably, yes," Kurt answers as they stand and shake the guy's hand. "While we're going to be students, we're not looking for part-time housing."

"Right, of course," Steve nods, even though Puck's pretty sure they might have lost him around 'on or about'. "So tell me a little more about what you're looking for. I have a few listings here that are available now, but they'll give you an idea of what's out there, and I'll get an idea of what you think."

"Sure," Puck says as Steve leads them back out of the office and then down the street another block before taking a right. "Just from what we can tell online, probably a studio. We have a little leeway with the cost, but close to $1300 or $1400 a month would be best."

"Specific area within the Upper West Side?"

"Seventies, maybe the lower eighties."

"Interesting," Steve says, in a way that makes Puck wonder if Steve's even listening to what they're saying. On the other hand, as long as he finds them a place, Puck doesn't really care how interested or disinterested he is, or if he understands anything about them. It's just the faux–interest is annoying. Steve pauses at another corner. "There's a building about five blocks from here with a studio available right now. Usually it or a similar building is going to have at least one studio open each month, somewhere in this area. Shall we take a look?"

 

“I’m about to say something I don’t think I’ve ever said to anybody ever,” Finn declares. “I don’t think I can eat anything else.”

Allison laughs. “But I haven’t taken you to my favorite cupcake place yet!”

“Wait? Did I say _anything_ else?” Finn grins at Allison. “What I meant was, anything that’s not a cupcake or three.”

“Besides,” Allison continues, “by the time you walk a few more blocks you’ll be ready for more.” She shakes her head. “That’s how to spot the tourists, by the way. The shoes.”

“What’s wrong with my shoes?” Finn asks, lifting up one foot at a time to look at it. “They look fine to me.”

“Not really the shoes. The limping people are tourists, and the limping is because of blisters, which I always assume are caused by shoes that aren’t broken in or that they’ve never really walked very far in.” Allison shrugs.

“Oh, these are my old shoes,” Finn says. “I like to wear them for rehearsal, unless it’s a dress rehearsal with our dancing shoes.”

“Then you’re probably going to be fine.” She raises her eyebrows and grins. “Do you really call them ‘dancing shoes’? Because it sounds like a line.”

“Well, what else would I call them?” Finn shakes his head at her. “I mean, that’s what they are.”

“It just sounds like something you only hear in songs or something.” She shrugs. “So tell me something horribly embarrassing about Kurt and Noah that I can tease them about.”

“I don’t know any Noahs,” Finn insists. “But when we were in third grade, Puck got sick in P.E. and he threw up in his own shoes.”

Allison starts out trying to cover her mouth as she laughs, but then she gives up. “Why in his shoes!” she finally asks.

“He had them off because we were doing some kind of tumbling thing, and I guess they were there, and it was better than the floor,” Finn says. “I mean, why does anybody puke in anything?”

“Fair enough! And Kurt?”

“What about him?”

“Something embarrassing about him?”

“Nope,” Finn says. “Sorry.”

“Now I _know_ I’m missing out on something,” Allison sighs. “So you can laugh at me, instead. I heard Noah talking to Kurt on the phone before I met Kurt, and I had this idea of what Kurt might be like, right?” She shakes her head. “Needless to say, I was way off base.”

“Oh yeah? What’d you think he was like? Really girly or something?”

“I had him pegged for a baritone.” Allison shakes her head slowly. “I mean.”

“Yeah, he’s definitely not that,” Finn says, laughing. “He’s an amazing singer, but he’s not a baritone.”

“To be fair, Noah _did_ try to trick me, though I didn’t realize it until later. Something about using the voice he used for funk or something like that?”

“Yeah, he sounds so funny when he does that!”

“So, yes, totally surprised,” Allison admits. “But, really. _Nothing_ embarrassing? Nothing at all?”

“You’ve met Kurt, right?” Finn asks. “Would you tell somebody something embarrassing about him?”

“I _did_ show you lots of fantastic food,” Allison sighs. “Just don’t expect me to tell you anything I observe, then.”

“But that’s different!” Finn protests, with a dramatically frowny face. “I… I… I’m Kurt’s brother. I’m allowed to know stuff.”

Allison laughs. “That’s a great pout. I’ll take it under advisement. We can negotiate if I get any truly incriminating photographs.”

“I bet I could get some at Pride this summer,” Finn says.

“I don’t think they’re going to care if anyone knows they were at Pride,” Allison says slowly, “so what’s incriminating about them, theoretically?”

“Well, I mean, there’s these _shorts_ ,” Finn begins, then stops himself. “You know, you really have to see pictures.”

“Then I suppose I’m counting on you!”

“I’ll totally come through, I promise! Won’t even post them to Facebook, even,” Finn says. “I’ll send them straight to you.”

Allison grins. “Awesome! See, we can work together on this.”

“Yeah, I’m a team player like that.” Finn pulls his phone out of his pocket and looks at the time. “Should we, like, head in their direction or something?”

“It’ll only take about twenty minutes, and that’s because of the time of day,” Allison says with a shake of her head. “But we can head towards the Upper West Side after cupcakes.”

“Ok, well, they’d probably like some cupcakes,” Finn says, nodding his head slowly. “I’ll grab some for them while we’re there.”

“Okay,” Allison agrees. “Sounds good. This place has some unusual combinations, I have to say.”

“They don’t happen to have one with chocolate and bacon, do they?”

“I don’t know.” Allison blinks and stares off to the side for a minute. “Chocolate with bacon? Really?”

Finn huffs at Allison for being ridiculous. “Not for _me_.”

“Okay?” Allison gives him this look like he's talking crazy talk, when he's obviously making perfect sense to anybody who really knows _Puck_.

“Just trust me on this one, ok? I’m the expert.”

“The expert on chocolate and bacon? Okay, I guess I’ll know who to call for that, then.”

Finn shakes his head and snorts. “Not on chocolate and bacon. Geez. I’m not a chef or anything.”

“You lost me somewhere around ‘not for me’ then.”

“That’s ok,” Finn says, and he pats Allison on the head, because it’s nice that she tried to follow at least. “We’ll just see if they have that.”

 

By 4:30, Puck wishes he and Kurt already lived there, mainly so they’d have a place to stop and take a break or something. After they looked at four or five different studio apartments, he’d made a few other stops, and they’d gone to a bank, and now they still need to walk back to the first Starbucks and hope that the manager’s actually there.

The manager there turns out to be one of the ones Ms. Horatio actually spoke with, and she’s surprisingly on board with the idea of guaranteeing him a job come August and working with his schedule of classes. Her main concern is where he’s going to be living, since apparently she had a Mannes student who lived in the housing down at the rest of the New School, but once Puck assures her that they’re going to be somewhere close by, she smiles slightly and nods, and that seems to be that, which means they’ve actually managed to have a really productive afternoon. Even if it’s not exactly exciting.

“Where should we tell Allison and Finn to meet us?” Puck asks Kurt as they walk down Amsterdam. “One of the stops, I guess.”

“Eighty-first Street?” Kurt suggests. “We can wait across the street in the park.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” They take their time walking up and then towards the park, arms around each other, and when they pause to wait for a light, Puck grins and presses their lips together. “We’re home, blue eyes. Even if we have to wait a few more months to come back.”

“Yes.” Kurt sighs a little, smiling. “Everything feels like… like I should expect it, somehow. Familiar.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Puck says as they arrive at the Natural History Museum

They don’t see Allison and Finn yet, and cross over into the park like Kurt had suggested. “That said,” Kurt continues. “It’s also odd.”

Puck nods, because he knows what Kurt means. There’s a lot of good things and a lot to look forward to, but there’s also – well, so far what seems to work the best is not to think about it too much. “Think he and Allison managed to stay on the right side of the law?” Puck cracks.

“If not, Allison’s probably already set up a reunion with their arresting officer ‘for old times’ sake’ or something,” Kurt laughs.

“Give her enough time and she’d have all of the NYPD at a picnic. I bet her class pre-emptively picks her to plan all the reunions.”

“That I do not doubt at all.” Kurt leans his head against Puck’s shoulder. “Tell me when you see them.”

“Them as in the two people walking across the street now?”

Kurt straightens slightly. “Yes, them. Do they see us?”

“Judging by the little hop and wave, yeah.” Puck grins. “All that time, and he’s got a bag from a bakery or something and nothing else.”

“Hey!” Finn calls out, when they’re almost within acceptable shouting distance.

Puck stands up, Kurt stretching beside him, but neither of them responds until Finn’s a little closer. “You saw New York and all you got was a white bag?” Puck calls back.

“I ate all of my souvenirs,” Finn says, as he and Allison approach. “These are yours, unless you want me to eat them, too.”

“What are they?” Kurt asks. “Baked goods as souvenirs?”

“Oh, I dunno,” Finn says, clutching the bag to his chest, though not hard enough to crush it. “Maybe you don’t want what I’ve got.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure we do,” Puck counters, grinning. “You can’t just show us?”

“Out here in the middle of everybody?” Finn makes a fake shocked face. “Nah, this is a bag of private souvenirs. If I just start pulling them out right here, everybody’s gonna want some.”

Kurt raises an eyebrow and steps just a bit closer to Finn. “I’m sure you could just _tell_ us quietly.”

Finn takes a long step forward and whispers something in Kurt’s ear. “You can tell Puck, too, if you want,” he says, when he steps backward again.

Kurt smirks at Finn and then at Puck, leaning over to whisper, “I think we need to ditch Allison now, rude as that may be.”

Luckily, Allison’s phone suddenly dings and she starts after reading the text. “Oh, I should go.” She exaggeratedly pouts and then laughs. “I’ll see you in a few more months, boys, and Finn, I still have to take you to that Greek place!”

“Yeah, Greek, awesome!” Finn says, but he doesn’t really look at Allison. He just keeps grinning at Kurt and Puck. Allison waves and runs back across the street, and as she disappears back towards the subway, Puck and Kurt pull Finn towards them, sitting back down on the bench on either side of him.

“Missed you,” Kurt says quietly.

“Missed you, too,” Finn says. “I really did get you something.”

“Didn’t think you were carrying around an empty bag,” Puck says wryly. “That would be dedication.”

“Hey, if you don’t _want_ your presents.”

“Not yet,” Puck replies, reaching out to pull Finn down to him, pressing their lips together softly. “We said we missed you.”

“I said I missed you, too,” Finn says, moving to press his mouth to Puck’s again.

“So presents come second,” Kurt adds, and as Puck pulls back, Kurt turns Finn’s face towards him, kissing him slowly. Finn’s hand, the one not holding the white bag, slides into Kurt’s hair.

Puck grins to himself and leans his head against Finn before slowly trying to pull the bag out of Finn’s hand. Finn snatches the bag away, but hooks his foot behind Puck’s and pulls Puck’s leg closer. Puck laughs. “Please?”

Finn moves his mouth away from Kurt’s far enough to say, “Not yet. Back at the room.”

“Then maybe we should attempt to go there?” Kurt suggests lightly.

“Yeah, we should do that,” Finn says, but he turns back to Puck and puts his hand on the back of Puck’s neck, pulling him in for another kiss. Puck grins against Finn’s lips, playing with the hair on the back of Finn’s neck as he parts his lips under Finn’s tongue. Finn’s tongue pushes inside Puck’s mouth and moves slowly until Puck pulls back after a long moment.

“We really should,” Puck agrees. “Presents. More kisses.”

“You’re gonna like your presents, I promise,” Finn says.

“Of course we will,” Kurt says easily, standing up and tugging on Finn’s sleeve. “Come on. You can tell us where Allison took you.”

“I ate _so many things_ , Kurt! Seriously, you won’t even believe it!”

“I sometimes can’t believe how much you eat at home,” Kurt teases. “So probably not.”

“So you got the food tour of Manhattan?”

“If I’m just basing it on food,” Finn says, “I’d have to say this is a pretty damn awesome city.”

“And there’s still more to try,” Puck points out as they manage to squeeze onto the train that’s just pulled in. “I have a sneaking suspicion it would take well over a year to try all of the places.”

“Though you’d probably have to repeat a restaurant for breakfast more quickly.”

“I do like breakfast,” Finn agrees. He manages to wrap an arm around each of them, pulling them against him, while still maintaining some semblance of grip on a pole, keeping them from falling over when the train stops.

“I almost expect you to start cackling about how you have us now,” Kurt muses, leaning his head against Finn’s shoulder.

“He needs a wart on his nose first.” Puck pauses. “A purple one.”

“Hey! No I don’t!” Finn squeezes them a little more closely. “I can always let you go find your own pole to hang on to, if you don’t appreciate this one.”

“Does that make you the pole right now?” Puck smirks. “Dude.”

Finn shrugs. “I am what I am, dude.”

“What we all are is squished.” Kurt looks around very briefly. “But pleasantly so.”

“Just one more stop, at least.”

“Are we there yet?” Finn fake whines.

“Always with the impatience, darling.” Kurt shakes his head. “I think we’re slowing down, though.”

They are slowing down, and they push their way through the car to exit it before heading back up to the street and then towards the hotel. It’s a little weird, again, to be in New York and have to remember to watch what he does or how he touches anyone, but they get into the hotel and then up to the room before too much time passes.

“Presents?” Kurt says hopefully as they close the door.

“Oh, did I have presents for you?” Finn asks, holding up the bag and letting it dangle from his hand.

“Don’t be mean!” Kurt frowns.

“Don’t make Kurt a sad Kurt, dude.”

“Aww, sorry Kurt,” Finn says. “Ok, then Kurt gets presents first.” Finn reaches into the bag and pulls out a cupcake, handing it to Kurt. “This one’s vanilla bean.” He reaches back into the bag. “This one is, well, obviously it’s red velvet.” He hands that one to Kurt, too, then reaches back into the bag. “And this one is honey lavender. I’m not sure how that tastes, but it was the prettiest one they had.” He hands that cupcake to Kurt, too.

“Ooh. Snack _and_ dessert.” Kurt contemplates the cupcakes in front of him, clearly trying to decide which one to eat first.

“Puck,” Finn says, his face serious. “I’m very sorry, but your presents are all the same flavor.” He hands the whole bag to Puck. “But that flavor is chocolate–bacon with maple frosting, so I thought that might be ok.”

“ _Dude_.” Puck looks in the bag. “I didn’t know that existed.” He pulls one out and starts to pull off the wrapper. “It could be dangerous that I now know it does.”

“So, do I tell you where I got them so you can have them all the time, or do I keep it a secret so you still need me around for something after you move here?” Finn asks, his voice artificially light.

“I’ll get back to you,” Puck jokes, then takes a bite of the cupcake. “Fuck, that’s awesome.”

Finn grins widely. “Knew you’d like it.”

Kurt decides on the red velvet cupcake and takes a smaller bite than Puck did. “What kind did you get yourself?”

“They had this salt caramel vanilla thing,” Finn says. “I might have had two.”

“Only two?” Puck can’t help but ask, grinning.

“Did I mention I pretty much spent all day eating? And, uh, at least two.”

“And just think, we have dinner in about forty-five minutes.” Kurt eyes his other two cupcakes mournfully. “I’ll eat you later, I promise,” he whispers.

“I always want these cupcakes. If I ate one in the morning, it’d almost be like breakfast.”

“Even you don’t usually have chocolate for breakfast, baby.”

“But it wouldn’t be horrible if I _did_.”

“So, the cupcakes are good?” Finn asks.

“Yes. You should let us thank you,” Kurt states, looking almost serious.

Finn shrugs a little and ducks his head, a small crooked grin on his face. “I just wanted to find something nice for you.”

“And you did. Come here.”

Finn crosses the short distance to the bed. “I’m here. So, now what?”

“Now you come here and let us kiss you.”

“Well, I did sort of wonder how those cupcakes tasted,” Finn says.

 

The walk to the weird French restaurant that Puck picked out, which Puck keeps insisting isn’t weird, only takes about ten minutes, and they don’t have to wait for anybody else, so it’s just the three of them.

“Do you think they really did all go on the Circle Line tour?” Puck asks as they walk.

“I hope so,” Finn says, draping one arm across Puck’s shoulders and one across Kurt’s. “Then no matter what they did today, what I did was more exciting, so when I talk about it, I’ll sound way cooler.”

“Well, we did very boring things, so you’re already ahead of us,” Kurt says.

“You had cupcakes, at least,” Finn points out. “That’s not boring.”

“But you brought them to us. We didn’t think to seek them out.”

“I didn’t seek them out, either. Allison brought me there. I just picked out the best ones.”

“Still.” Puck shrugs underneath Finn’s arm. “And I think you covered _more_ of Manhattan than anyone else.”

“I bet I ate at way more places than they did, at least,” Finn agrees. “You think they’ll figure out we tricked them about that tour? I bet Rachel probably loved it.”

“Mike and Sam and Artie? Oh, yeah. The girls? Most of them probably did love it.” Puck pauses. “Except maybe Tina.”

“Poor Tina,” Finn says, not that he actually feels that sorry for Tina.

“Do you think Schue’s going to make us sight-see as a group tomorrow afternoon?” Kurt asks as they turn a corner.

“I’ll just tell him no,” Finn says. “I mean, I’m way more the leader than he is, so I’ll just be all, sorry dude, no. Think he’ll have a stroke or something?”

“He might try to make us watch the afternoon groups.” Puck grimaces. “I don’t want to watch all 49 other groups.”

“I’ll tell him no to that, too. I feel like telling people no right now.”

“Are you going to tell us no?” Kurt says.

Finn shakes his head. “Do I _ever_? Bossofme, right?”

“Just clarifying.”

“I mean, I can tell you no if you want me to,” Finn offers. “I just didn’t think we were playing it like that.”

Kurt giggles and on the other side of Finn, Puck starts laughing. “We’ll let you know if that changes,” Puck chokes out after a moment.

Finn shrugs. “I dunno. Could be fun.”

“Not at the moment, though,” Kurt says.

When they walk a little further down the block, Finn sees the bright red awning announcing they’ve found the French restaurant. Well, it actually just has the name of the restaurant, but Finn knows it’s French. The shop above the one next to it has a neon sign in the window advertising a psychic.

“Oh, hey, a psychic!” Finn says. He sees Quinn, Brittany, and Santana standing by the awning, and adds, “And some of the girls, but I’m more excited about the psychic.”

“The psychic’s just going to tell you something you already know,” Puck says. “Like, that we’re going to kick ass tomorrow, or that ‘a change is coming in your life’.”

“Or maybe she’ll tell me the winning lottery numbers or whether or not I’ll start a game next year,” Finn says. “She might be a real psychic.” Brittany waves at the three of them as they stop in front of the restaurant.

“So, Kurt, did you pick this restaurant?” Quinn asks. “I know it wasn’t Finn.”

“That’s true. It definitely wasn’t me!” Finn says.

“I did not,” Kurt responds, smiling slightly.

“Mr. Schuester didn’t choose it,” Quinn says. “There’s no way.”

Puck starts laughing at that. “Yeah, that’d be a big _no_. Schue definitely didn’t pick the restaurant. We’d all be down at the Friday’s on Times Square.”

Quinn puts the back of her hand to her mouth, the way she does when she’s trying to cover up that she’s laughing. “I’m sure he could pick a restaurant if… no. I’m sorry, I can’t.” She takes her hand away from her mouth and starts laughing. “No, he really couldn’t pick a restaurant.”

“It was Puck,” Finn explains. “He has a thing for that pâté stuff.” Quinn starts laughing even harder. “Hey! I’m serious! He does!”

“They have foie gras, too. And duck confit.” Puck shrugs. “It’s true.”

“Finn’s serious? Finn, you’re being serious?” Quinn stops laughing. “Puck, you chose this restaurant?”

“I’d eat a duck,” Brittany says, like that’s really all that needs to be said about it.

“Yeah.” Puck gives her a weird look. “I did all the rest of the travel stuff.”

Santana snickers and whispers something in Puck’s ear, which just makes Puck raise his eyebrows and then roll his eyes as she grins and reclaims Brittany’s hand. Sam, Mercedes, Mike, Tina, Artie, and Rachel—who looks exactly like what Allison was talking about with the shoes and the blisters and the limping—all show up, and Mr. Schue’s only another minute or two behind them.

“You.” Mike shakes his head and points at Kurt, Finn, and Puck. “You three did that to us.”

“I keep telling you people, it was _Puck_ who picked the restaurant,” Finn says. “I wouldn’t ever pick someplace French!”

“Not that,” Mike says, looking puzzled for a second. “That boat. Ship. Whatever.”

“Oh, was that fun?” Finn asks, doing his best not to look over at Puck or Kurt, but mostly failing to not grin. “I heard it was a lot of fun.”

“I wanted to get off the boat and actually _do_ things,” Tina sighs. “Not just wave at them.”

“I’ll never get those hours of my life back,” Artie says. “I could have been doing so many other things.”

“We’re so sorry you didn’t enjoy it,” Kurt says, in his best Kurt voice, the one that sounds sweet, but is definitely not sweet.

“I’m sure,” Artie says, glaring at Kurt, and looking like he’s about to say something. Finn crosses his arms and gives Artie a stern look, and Artie seems to decide he doesn’t have anything else to say, which is a good thing.

“Wow, this place looks kind of fancy!” Schue says suddenly. “Are we ready?”

There’s a sort of collective nod, and the whole group of them files into the restaurant. “Am I dressed nice enough for this place?” Finn whispers to Puck.

“You look fine, darling,” Puck whispers back.

“You think Kurt thinks so, too? He looks really nice.”

“He always does.”

“Still not so sure I’m kissing you if you eat snails, dude,” Finn whispers, extra quietly.

“My duck confit has mushrooms with it.” Puck grins widely.

“I like mushrooms. Ok, maybe the mushrooms’ll cancel out the snails.”

Everybody finds a seat at the table, and the three of them sit all in row, Puck in between Finn and Kurt.

“I have no idea what most of this is!” Schue says when they’re all seated.

“I know what chicken is!” Sam says brightly.

“I didn’t know Scotland had salmon.” Mike frowns at his menu. “How did we end up at a French place, again?”

“Puck. Seriously, I keep telling you guys that,” Finn says.

“I bet you don’t even know what half of this stuff is,” Mercedes says to Puck. “Who are you trying to impress?”

Puck gives Mercedes an even weirder look than he gave Quinn outside. “Huh?” He shakes his head. “And why wouldn’t I?”

“Shows what you know,” Finn interjects. “He’s ordering pâté and snails and a comfortable duck.”

“Duck confit,” Puck corrects. “It’s not comfortable, because it’s dead.”

“Fine, a duck _confit_ ,” Finn says. “Either way. He knows exactly what he’s talking about with this food stuff!”

“This restaurant is not exactly vegan friendly!” Rachel whines. “Do you think they could give me some of the vegetables alone?”

“They probably have salad or something,” Finn suggests. “It might just be plain lettuce or whatever, but they could fix you that.”

“Yes, I suppose I can ask for this ‘country salad’ without the poached egg.” Rachel nods once to herself, and on the other side of Puck, there’s a muffled laugh from Kurt.

“What’s funny?” Finn whispers to Puck.

There’s a pause while Puck talks to Kurt, and then Puck leans back towards Finn. “Those ‘lardons’ are bacon.”

“Awesome!” Finn says, a little too loudly, because Rachel’s head snaps in his direction.

“What’s awesome, Finn?” she asks, an eyebrow raised.

“Uh, steak tartare,” Finn answers. “The tartare part means it’s raw.”

Rachel makes a face. “You’re eating _raw beef_?”

“I’m going to eat snails,” Puck answers. 

“Hey, Puck,” Finn starts, turning to Puck. “Do you think snails love their mothers?”

“I don’t think snails have brains, so, yeah, probably not.”

“But cows probably do, right?” Finn grins. Rachel’s almost shaking in her seat, like she’s going to explode and there will be little Rachel bits all over Puck’s comfortable duck. 

“Yeah, probably.” Puck shrugs like it’s not a big deal. 

Rachel huffs. “I can’t believe the two of you can be so—”

“So, Finn,” Mercedes interrupts her. “We saw you documenting your day on Facebook.”

“Oh, yeah?” Finn takes a sip of his water. “We ate some really good food.”

“It was nice of her to take you around, I guess,” Mercedes says, but she’s looking at Puck weirdly. 

“Yeah, she’s really awesome,” Finn says, shrugging. “We had a lot of fun. I’d definitely hang out with her again any time.”

“Really?” Mercedes sounds kind of skeptical, and then she looks at Puck. “That wouldn’t bother you?”

Puck shakes his head slowly. “Is it supposed to?”

Finn looks at Mercedes, then at Puck, then back at Mercedes. “Wait, did you think…?”

“What’d she think?” Puck asks, under his breath. “I’m lost.”

“Dude,” Finn says, equally quietly. “She think you guys are like. _You know_. A thing or something, I think!”

Puck snorts and shakes his head. “That’s… a little disturbing, actually.” He looks back at Mercedes. “Seriously? No.”

Mercedes looks at Quinn for help. “We just thought…”

“She’s been commenting on your Facebook a lot, and we know you talk to her on the phone,” Quinn says. “And she seemed really excited to see you. She’s sweet and she’s pretty, so why not?”

“Uh.” Finn says, louder than he means to. “Me. I’m why not.”

Puck looks at him, startled, then nods, even though Finn can tell Puck still has no clue where this is going. 

“You?” Quinn asks.

“Yeah,” Finn says. He’s kind of shooting from the hip here, but some sort of a plan is starting to take form. “I, uh. Saw her on Facebook and told Puck I thought she was cute. Right, Puck?”

“Right!” Puck says quickly. “You know. Just helping my boy out.”

“And we had such a great time together today and all that, right?” Finn looks at Puck and Kurt for approval. Kurt looks amused, and Puck nods. Finn tries to silently communicate that he’s come up with the greatest cover ever, so hopefully they pick up on it. “I might even go back out with her tonight,” he announces, though not so loudly that Schue could hear him.

“Oh.” Mercedes appears almost disappointed. “Well, I guess that’s nice,” she adds, looking at Rachel, who is looking down at the table, obviously working herself into some sort of snit about the entire thing. 

“See?” Puck says. “Everything’s cool.”

“Yeah, I may stay out really late,” Finn adds, like it’s just no big deal at all. “You know, I might not even be back at all.” Because that, ladies and gentleman, is a fantastic alibi.

Mike and Sam both nod in Finn’s direction, Sam even giving him a thumbs up. 

Artie looks impressed. “Fast work.”

Mercedes just shakes her head and pats Rachel’s hand, whispering something to Rachel that no one else can hear. 

“Yeah, well,” Finn says. “I’m just, like, charming or whatever.” 

Puck is still looking at the menu, even though he knows what he’s ordering, and then Puck’s hand slides onto Finn’s thigh. When Finn looks at Puck out of the corner of his eye, he sees that Puck’s other hand is under the table, too, probably on Kurt’s leg. 

“On a totally different topic,” Mike says, “I think we ought to do one more dance rehearsal tonight. We can all go back to the hotel and change, and then go out in Central Park for it!”

Finn frowns. “A short one. I’ve got plans, dude.”

“Right, just dance, not vocals,” Mike agrees. 

“And then everybody goes to bed at a reasonable time,” Finn adds. “So we’re all rested. Well, you know, everybody who doesn’t have _plans_ needs to go to bed.”

“Oh, we’ll be in a bed,” Puck mutters under his breath, but he’s got that tone in his voice, the one he gets when he’s maybe starting to freak out. Finn slips his hand under the table and rests it on top of Puck’s hand, squeezing a little.

“Nice double standard, dude!” Sam says, but he’s laughing. 

“Hey, I didn’t say nobody else was allowed to make plans,” Finn says. “If you have plans, that’s totally your business.”

 

The quickest way to fool the rest of them, Kurt decides, is if the three of them walk towards 7th Avenue before turning south, instead of heading down 6th. They’ll probably all think that Puck and Kurt are sending Finn off on a different subway line to meet up with Allison. 

“Why did they think Allison and I were a thing, again?” Puck asks as they walk, Kurt pressed against his right side and Finn on his left. 

“Because they’re dumbasses?” Finn suggests.

“Right.” Puck nods. “So weird.”

“Well, they were weird about the food, too,” Kurt points out, tightening his arm around Puck’s waist just a little. “Weird all around.”

“They are just weird in general,” Finn agrees. He wraps his arm more tightly across Puck’s shoulders. “Weird dumbasses.”

“What’s the secret to your glee club’s success? We put up with the weird dumbasses,” Puck jokes. “Weirdest song we’ll hear tomorrow?”

“‘Stayin’ Alive’,” Kurt answers.

“Four-part harmony of the theme song from _Danger Mouse_ ,” Finn says. “With cha-cha dance.”

“’80s metal band tribute mash-up is my guess.”

“Hey, maybe they’ll do a set with all three,” Finn says. 

“I somehow even hate to contemplate that,” Kurt admits. He leans his head on Puck’s shoulder for a moment as they wait for a light to change. “Better, baby?”

“Yeah,” Puck nods. “Guess it’s better tonight than in the morning.”

“Everybody gets a turn,” Finn says. “You’re just having your turn, is all.”

“Still say Kurt’s is going to be about the costumes in the morning,” Puck grins. 

Kurt shakes his head. “Probably.”

“Then we’ll calm him down just like he did for us,” Finn says, firmly. “We’re a team, right?”

“Yeah.” Puck nods. “We will. We are.”

Kurt stops them at the corner before the hotel. “We walked slowly and went into that one store, so everyone should either be in their rooms or not back yet.” He grins. “However, if we need anything from outside the room, now is our last chance.”

“You want a coffee or something?” Finn asks.

“That’d be good, yeah,” Puck nods. “Let’s do that. And then lock ourselves in.”

Kurt smirks at both of them. “Yes, let’s do that.”

It doesn’t take long to get their coffees and head up to the room, and Puck hangs the ‘do not disturb’ tag on the door before flipping the bolt. When he turns around, Finn’s already pulled off his shirt, discarding it on the floor. 

“Hey,” Finn says.

“Hi,” Puck returns, grinning a little and starting to take off his own shirt. Kurt’s perched on the side of the bed, slowly removing his shoes. 

“How are you feeling? Still stressed out?” Finn asks. 

“If I say yes, does that mean you two will make sure I’m not?” 

“Well, I was gonna make sure, like, preventively,” Finn shrugs. He starts unbuttoning his jeans, then stops, and takes a step toward Puck, reaching for the button of Puck’s jeans instead. “If you want me to.”

“Preventative medicine?” Puck says, grin widening. “I could be okay with that.”

Kurt steps behind Puck, fingers running down Puck’s spine before one arm wraps around Puck’s chest and Kurt presses against Puck. “It does sound very responsible of us.”

“I am working on that whole responsibility thing,” Finn says. 

“In that case, anything I can do to help,” Puck laughs, putting one hand over Kurt’s arm and wrapping the other around Finn’s neck. 

“You can be still so I can get these pants undone.” Finn unfastens Puck’s jeans and then pushes them down his hips and legs to the floor. “Step out, please.”

“So polite,” Kurt notes as Puck does just that, kicking them to the side.

Finn runs his hands up Puck’s calves, then the backs of his knees, then his thighs. “You know, I’m pretty sure I still owe you something.”

“Yeah? Something?” Puck runs his fingers through Finn’s hair. “I seem to remember something about that.”

“If you want me to, I mean. If that’s ok.”

“I want.”

Finn kisses the top of Puck’s thigh and then his hip. “You sure?”

Puck shakes his head. “Would it help if I said ‘please’?”

Finn’s lips stop moving across Puck’s hip and his breath catches momentarily, before he says, “It, uh. Might.”

Kurt’s arm tightens around Puck, and Puck twists his fingers in Finn’s hair. “ _Please_ , Finn,” Puck manages. 

Finn mutters something against Puck’s hip that might be “oh, fuck” and then his hands are sliding around to cup Puck’s ass, and his lips are brushing against the head of Puck’s cock. Puck forces himself not to push forward, holding as still as he can. 

“God, that’s beautiful,” Kurt murmurs, his chin resting on Puck’s shoulder. “So good.”

Finn’s lips part and he runs his tongue across the tip of Puck’s cock before moving his whole mouth around Puck, taking Puck’s cock into his mouth slowly until he’s gone as far as he can. Puck exhales and his fingers relax in Finn’s hair. “Fuck, darling.”

Finn’s fingertips dig into Puck’s skin and he moves his head, his lips and tongue working around Puck’s cock. It’s pretty clear that Finn hasn’t done this often and doesn’t have a good handle on technique, but the enthusiasm more or less compensates for that. At the same time, Puck can feel Kurt’s lips moving slowly across his shoulders, soft and barely there. “Let our darling take care of you, baby,” Kurt says quietly. “We’ve got you. So beautiful, so good, isn’t it?” Puck nods and lets his eyes close. “Want to watch you both.”

Puck lets more of his weight rest against Kurt’s chest as he tightens his fingers in Finn’s hair almost involuntarily, tugging a little as he does so. Finn responds by moving his head faster, one of his hands traveling around Puck’s hip to wrap around the base of Puck’s cock, moving in time to Finn’s mouth. Puck forces his eyes open for a moment, staring down at Finn, and he runs his tongue along his lips, breathing faster. “Oh, fuck,” he breathes, and Kurt’s fingers brush against his nipple as he speaks. “Fuck fuck so good.” 

Finn’s hand and mouth move even faster on Puck’s cock, Finn’s tongue lapping along the underside, and Puck’s fingers tug on Finn’s hair again as he comes, biting down on his lip to keep himself from crying out. He leans back on Kurt, eyes closing again. 

Finn nuzzles his face against Puck’s thigh for a moment, then asks, “So that was ok?”

Puck manages half of a laugh, and Kurt giggles a little. “Yeah,” Puck says. “It was ‘ok’.”

Finn gently headbutts Puck in the thigh and mutters, “Asshole. You loved it.”

“C’mere,” Puck says, tugging on Finn and laughing. Finn stands up and puts his arms around Puck and Kurt, pressing his mouth hard against Puck’s. Puck pulls on Finn’s hair just a little as he returns the kiss equally forcefully. 

“Such boys,” Kurt murmurs, nipping at Puck’s neck very gently. “Luckily I like boys.”

“Yep, I’m definitely a boy,” Finn agrees. 

 

The alarm goes off so early that Finn’s not sure even coffee’s going to do much to fix it. He whines and tightens the arm that’s across Puck, pulling him close like a giant Puck–shaped teddy bear.

“Don’t wanna,” Finn says.

“Good morning,” Puck replies, sounding amused and far more awake than anybody has the right to sound. 

“It’s not good. I’m not even sure it’s really morning,” Finn complains. “Are you sure we can’t have thirty more minutes?”

“Today’s the day, darling,” Kurt says from the other side of Puck. “And we can only have thirty more minutes if you wanted to skip coffee _and_ breakfast, so. No.”

“I think I got more sleep on last year’s trip and that’s including staying up all night writing the song.” Finn smooshes his face into Puck’s neck to block the harsh light of the sun that’s creeping in through the break in the curtain. 

“Yeah, you woke me up even earlier than this,” Puck snorts. “C’mon. Shower and stuff.”

“How about you shower first and I’ll try to convince myself that standing up is more awesome than lying here, ok?”

“Puck goes last,” Kurt says. “Because of drying time.”

Puck nods. “Yep.”

“Then Kurt first,” Finn says. “I don’t care if I go out wet.”

“Up, darling.”

“Traitor,” Finn grumbles, but he sits up, because Kurt said up, so up he’ll get. Even if Kurt’s a big, mean traitor. The shower does help a little bit, but he makes a point of shaking his wet hair in both Kurt and Puck’s direction. That’ll teach them… something. Puck just waves his hand with that little finger motion thing he does when he just doesn’t even care, and Kurt flat out ignores him, so Finn dries off and puts on the clothes he packed for his overnight with ‘Allison’.

When Kurt finishes with the shower, he just puts on a plain old T-shirt, jeans, and his Cons, then he goes to do whatever fancy stuff it is he does with his hair to make it all tall and excited. Puck doesn’t take long at all in the shower, because he doesn’t have any hair to speak of that would need something done to it. 

“Breakfast?” Kurt asks, turning around from the mirror. 

“Coffee. Lots of it. Maybe some pastry thingies,” Finn agrees. 

“Protein, too,” Kurt says. “And I certainly hope Schue left time in the schedule for a Starbucks stop.”

“We’re performing this morning, but not in the first hour?” Puck asks. “Because otherwise we would have been notified, right?”

“What if we’re in the first hour and nobody notified us!” Finn says, and he can feel his chest starting to squeeze like it’s trying to pop his heart. “Oh, shit!”

“Dude.” Puck shakes his head. “Don’t you think we would have been woken up at, I don’t know, four in the morning or whatever, with Schue freaking out? And if they didn’t notify us and should’ve, they’ll move us to a different hour.” He shrugs. “Personally I just hope we’re not the last hour before lunch. Judges’ll be too hungry to concentrate on those five.”

“Ok. Ok. You’re right,” Finn says, though he still does a little pacing back and forth across the room, just to help himself calm down. “Everything’s fine. Oh, Puck, do you have your…” he adds, with a hand–waggle to indicate something, like a pill bottle or something. Puck’ll know what he means.

“Of course I’m right. And yeah.” Puck looks over at Kurt. “Let’s do this thing.”

 

They manage to arrive at Radio City Music Hall with venti drinks and twenty-five minutes to get into their costumes before the competition starts. They’re grouped into a changing room with the other four groups performing during their hour, and Puck stifles a laugh at the fuschia cummerbunds on the group from the Dakotas. 

Finn elbows him and leans over. “Dude, what’s the cummerbunds?”

“They do match the girls’ dresses,” Puck snorts. 

“Kurt told me they should never do that!”

“Obviously they don’t have a Kurt.” Puck shrugs and pulls on his shirt. 

“Of course they don’t have a Kurt,” Finn says, sounding bothered by the idea. “ _We_ have the only Kurt.”

“Duh?” Puck laughs for a second. 

“Roll your sleeves up twice on the jackets,” Kurt instructs the guys. 

Finn salutes. “You got it, bossofme.”

Kurt just raises one eyebrow and then turns to look over the girls, and Puck grins. “We’ll look the best, anyway.”

Schue hurries over and beams at them. “Looking good, guys! The national president is going to say a few words and introduce the judges, and then they’ll be getting started, so let’s get out there!”

There’s some shuffling and they head out to the main hall, taking the seats reserved for the Ohio Regional Winner. The lights dim just a few moments later, and the president dude walks out and introduces himself, congratulates all of them, and then the spotlight is on five people near the middle of the auditorium. 

“Our wonderful professional and celebrity judging panel! First, give a warm welcome to Ms. Patti LuPone!” There’s a pair of excited high–pitched squeals from their section, one of which definitely came from Kurt, sitting right next to him. 

“Guess Rachel and Kurt are both pretty happy about that,” Finn whispers. Puck stifles a laugh and nods. 

“Our other Broadway professionals, Duncan Sheik, who wrote the music for _Spring Awakening_ , and the originator of the role of Elphaba in _Wicked_ , Ms. Idina Menzel!”

The woman that stands this time looks weirdly like Shelby, except not dressed in purple and objectively speaking, a lot more attractive, and if Puck remembers right, the dude wrote the music for that musical with all the songs like ‘Totally Fucked’. 

The celebrity judges are next, with the president introducing Captain Sullenberger or “Sully”, who was the pilot that landed his plane in the Hudson River, which Puck has to admit is pretty awesome, even if he has no idea why that qualifies the dude to judge a show choir competition. 

“And, finally, our last judge for the 2012 National Championships, Jason David Frank, better known for his long-standing portrayal of the White Ranger.”

“Oh… my… _fuck_ ,” Finn breathes. “It’s _him_.”

“So you and Kurt both have your idols on the judging panel,” Puck snickers. “Don’t get too nervous, dude.”

“Nervous, nothing,” Finn says. “I’m, like, overwhelmed or whatever. I might just sit here and stare at him until our set.”

Puck laughs. “You do that. Should we be jealous?”

“It’s possible,” Finn says. “I mean, _White Ranger_!”

“Right. White Ranger.” Puck shakes his head as the president dude leaves the stage and the first group is announced. 

“Opening our 2012 competition, the Maryland Regionals Winners, the Bethespians!”

The Bethespians have black and silver sparkling costumes and they open with ‘Once Upon A Time in New York City’, which makes Puck think of _Oliver and Company_ , thanks to Hannah. Their choreography isn’t intricate but it’s well-executed or probably what Mike keeps calling ‘crisp’. They slide into The Eagles after that with ‘In A New York Minute’, which seems odd, but it’s a good choice to showcase the voice of the guy who’s apparently their lead male vocalist. 

Their third song, though, is a mash-up of ‘New York City Girl’ and ‘New York City Boy’. Kurt and Finn turn to Puck simultaneously from either side and say “This is the gayest mash-up ever.”

Puck starts laughing, barely keeping it quiet, and he shakes his head. They might be right, actually, but it does manage to work and it has more intricate dancing than the first two songs. They get a lot of applause when they finish, and they beam at the hall as they take their bows and then exit the stage. 

The second group doesn’t really make an impression on Puck, but when they announce the third group, Puck straightens in his seat, as does the rest of their group. “Our Indiana Regional Winners, Vocal Adrenaline!”

Puck doesn’t recognize the lead female vocalist, which means Sunshine must have actually escaped their clutches. They do ‘Dance for You’ first, which makes Kurt sniff. “ _I_ could do this Beyonce better than her.”

“Yeah, I know,” Puck agrees, nodding. “And it’s not… the best choice.”

“No,” Kurt agrees, and then he huffs as they transition into ‘Alejandro’. “Gaga? Really?” He shakes his head. 

“We totally did better Gaga than these guys,” Finn says, leaning across Puck to talk to Kurt. “Don’t worry.”

“Not worried, just a bit unimpressed,” Kurt sniffs. “What’s next? Lana Del Ray?”

The answer, however, is Rihanna, and they sing ‘Where Have You Been?’, which turns out better than the other two. 

“Well, that wasn’t really what I expected from them,” Puck admits. 

“Didn’t you notice? They didn’t have even numbers this year, or even close to even numbers. Not like last year or the year before.” Kurt shrugs. “It makes sense, I suppose, to go with songs that are more challenging for the higher registers, in those circumstances.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“I’m not even sure what we just saw,” Finn says, shaking his head. 

“A lot of dancing,” Mike says from Finn’s other side. “A whole lot of dancing to ‘dance music’.”

The second hour’s groups are mostly unremarkable, except for the “Wydahona Regional Winners, the Polyhymnals!” 

The group is all girls, but despite that, they do three songs written by men from a man’s point of view, starting with Leonard Cohen’s ‘I’m Your Man’ and some slow waltzing. The switch to Maroon 5 and ‘She Will Be Loved’ is pretty jarring. Puck holds his breath a little before the third song starts, wondering how strange it will seem. 

“Wham! Interesting choice,” Kurt mutters, as yet another song entitled ‘I’m Your Man’ rounds out the set list. 

“Yeah, not sure that’s a great way to pick a set list,” Puck mutters, and Kurt shakes his head. 

By the time the third hour’s groups perform, Puck isn’t paying much attention, scanning the other eleven of them and Schue periodically and still hoping that the judges aren’t going to get too tired or hungry before they perform, the last slot during the fourth hour. 

When the fifth group finishes, and there’s yet another ten minute intermission, they get up and follow Schue back to greenroom five, complete with water bottles, straws, and a monitor to watch the other four groups for the hour. 

The first group is the West Texas Regional Winners, according to the announcer, and the Pikesville Performers start with ‘You Got A Friend In Me’ complete with line dancing choreography. The twelve of them settle into various seats in the room and watch with varying facial expressions. 

“That’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen,” Brittany says, completely unironically. 

“I never thought about line dancing and show choir mixing,” Sam says. “Still not convinced that they do.” The set continues with ‘I’ll Make A Man Out of You’, and Sam continues. “So they’re… doing Disney?”

“Maybe they’re all hoping to do the Disney College Program?” Tina offers. 

“That’s the second most amazing thing I’ve ever seen,” Brittany says. 

Sam’s hypothesis is confirmed just a few moments later, though, when their third song begins, and Puck immediately identifies it as ‘Son of Man’.

“Their choreography is, uh, energetic?” Finn offers. 

“It’s something, anyway,” Mike nods. “I’m suddenly feeling very optimistic.”

When the Pikesville Performers leave the stage, Schue turns the monitor off and looks at them. “Guys,” he starts, then stops before swallowing and continuing. “You’ve done something amazing already. I’d say to enjoy your last competition performance together, but I’m pretty sure that _that’s_ tomorrow, not today.” He stops and nods in Finn’s direction. 

“So this is the next to last time we’re doing this,” Finn says, “which kind of sucks, because at this point, we kick this’s ass in all directions. I’m proud of all of us. We’ve stuck it out through, I mean, I can’t even begin to list the stuff we’ve stuck it out through this year. I’m pretty sure we don’t have time for that, not to mention the stuff from the two years before _that_.” 

Finn pauses and everyone laughs for a few seconds, a few hands being squeezed and smiles exchanged. 

“I don’t know if you’re tired of hearing the same speech, but I’m getting kind of tired of giving it, so just go out there and nail this thing like we’ve been doing back home. I love you guys.” He spreads his arms and does a little ‘come here’ gesture with both hands, and then Finn pretty much becomes a human show choir circle, somehow hugging at least a part of each of the other eleven of them.

When they all pull apart and smooth out their costumes, there’s a knock on the door, and a theatre guy in black directs them to the wings, where they could, in theory, watch the group performing ahead of them, but Puck’s pretty sure that none of them actually do. 

The group stops and everyone claps, and then the stage lights go dark and they’re filing onto the stage. The introductory music to ‘This Is War’ starts, and Sam picks up the first lines, the first solos all flowing together, and the dancing really does seem automatic. 

_A warning to the prophet,  
The liar, the honest,  
This is war._

_To the leader, the pariah,  
The victor, the messiah,  
This is war._

Puck spares a glance towards the audience, who mostly seem to be getting into it, and they all change their positions as the music changes. 

_I do believe in the light  
Raise your hands into the sky  
The fight is done, the war is won  
Lift your hands toward the sun  
Toward the sun  
Toward the sun  
Toward the sun  
The war is won_

_To the right, To the left  
We will fight to the death!  
To the edge of the earth  
It's a brave new world  
From the last to the first_

Despite the dancing being mostly automatic, it does still feel strange to lean _stage_ right and _stage_ left as they sing the chorus. They end the song in a single line across the front of the stage, arms raised, as the music fades into the six–measure bridge. 

All of them except Finn and Rachel file off the stage, quickly shedding their jackets and picking up Finn’s that he had to hastily toss off the stage. During the last measure of the bridge, Finn and Rachel take their positions center stage. 

As the music transitions to the duet, Finn looks over his shoulder in Puck and Kurt’s direction and shoots them a broad grin, even though he probably can’t see them with the lights shining in his face, before he starts his verse of the duet.

_All these complicated rules for loving you  
All these things I'm supposed to say and supposed to do  
How to touch, how to talk, how to stand, how to walk  
It's complicated_

Rachel’s voice joins Finn’s as Rachel crosses to Finn, and they do their side-by-side dancing.

_You’ve got me running for my life, I run in place  
Never knowing if you’ll vanish without a trace  
Will you stay, will you go, that’s the thing, I don’t know  
It’s complicated_

When they reach the chorus, Finn spins Rachel away from him, and the two of them sing their parts with their bodies angled away from each other, so Finn is facing toward the wing where Puck and Kurt are watching. Finn sings his lines of the chorus, with Rachel singing the accompaniment. 

_Loving you baby  
The rules are driving me crazy   
The hoops that I leap through  
Just hoping that I could keep you_

Then Rachel sings her lines, with Finn accompanying her.

_Cause loving you baby  
I tell myself it can’t save me   
Too many rules I can’t keep straight   
Too many promises, too late_

The two of them sing the next few lines together, and both of them do well with the choreography, which has Mike grinning in the wings. 

_The sweetest thing’s the salt that’s on your skin  
And forgetting where you end and I begin  
I can’t hide, God I’ve tried, baby let me inside  
It’s not complicated_

The last verse is just Finn, as he spins her away again and faces the audience. 

_Loving you’s a maze that I’ve come to hate  
The endless twists and turns that I navigate  
The subtext, who suspects, never knowing what’s next  
It’s complicated_

They close the song with a repeat of the chorus, and as the music shifts, the other ten of them file back onto the stage, finding their partners for ‘Somebody Told Me’.

Puck’s always been glad for the break between ‘This Is War’ and ‘Somebody Told Me’ in terms of the choreography, and he takes a final deep breath as he and Kurt start dancing. As promised, Kurt’s managed to get Puck leading passably, even with the more complicated swing moves. 

_Breaking my back just to know your name  
Seventeen tracks and I've had it with this game  
I'm breaking my back just to know your name  
But heaven ain't close in a place like this  
Anything goes but don't blink you might miss  
Cause heaven ain't close in a place like this  
I said heaven ain't close in a place like this  
Bring it back down, bring it back down tonight  
Never thought I'd let a rumor ruin my moonlight_

After a lot of back and forth, the solos had been concentrated in ‘This Is War’, and most of ‘Somebody Told Me’ is sung by the group as a whole or in two parts, sometimes the guys falling silent and sometimes the girls. 

_Somebody told me  
You had a boyfriend  
Who looked like a girlfriend  
That I had in February of last year  
It's not confidential  
I've got potential  
A rushin', a rushin' around_

They hold their last dance positions, then walk forward as couples to quickly bow before all hurrying off, stage right, and falling into a messy hug, Schue beaming at them as they listen to the applause.

“That was amazing, you guys. Just. Amazing.” Schue looks almost overcome, and then they’re hustled back to their seats in the audience to watch the fifth hour’s groups. 

After the first group, Puck recognizes the name of the second group. “The Arizona Regional Winners, Step on Stage!” 

He nudges Kurt. “Isn’t that Zachary’s group?”  
“Yes, I think so. Oh, yeah, definitely.” Kurt laughs quietly. “No monkey suit, though.”

“Probably a good plan.”

When they sat back down, Rachel ended up on Kurt’s other side, and Puck can hear her whispering to Kurt, though it seems like she’s trying to whisper loudly so that it will carry to Finn. “That friend of yours? Zachary, wasn’t it? He is rather cute.”

“I suppose so,” Kurt says mildly. “And yes, he is going to be at Marymount in the autumn along with me.”

“Perhaps you could introduce me at some point, then!” Rachel says, and this time her voice is even louder.

“Perhaps.”

The theme for Zachary’s group seems to be ‘The Nineties’. They start with Barenaked Ladies’ ‘If I Had $1,000,000’, which is actually a central feature in one of the few good memories Puck has from before Zeke left, Zeke singing the song to his mom and dancing her around the living room. 

From there, they go into ‘Only Wanna Be With You’, which wasn’t that great of a song in its original rendition, so it’s possible, Puck concedes, that they actually do a better job with their cover than Hootie and company did the first time. Their final song is ‘She Likes Me for Me’, which is a good choice to close the set. 

The three remaining groups blend together in Puck’s head, and then they are finally headed back towards the changing rooms, everyone slipping into their street clothes quickly before one of the black–clad backstage guys directs all twenty-five of the groups that have already performed down a hall into a smaller room set up with a lunch buffet. “The organizers are officially my new best friends,” Puck announces as they walk towards the line. “I didn’t realize just how hungry I was until just now.”

“No, I didn’t either,” Kurt agrees. “Want to grab Finn and find Zachary? I don’t want to listen to Rachel’s rehashing. Maybe tonight.”

“Yeah, definitely.” Puck spots Zachary first and angles towards him, leaving Kurt to find Finn. 

Puck comes up behind Zachary and can’t resist the comment. “Hootie? Really?”

“Oh, hey, Noah,” Zachary says. “Yeah, wasn’t my idea, but I thought we made it work.”

“Just not a big fan,” Puck admits. He nods his head towards where Kurt and Finn are sitting down. “Want to grab a seat? We’re avoiding the Rachel dissection for a few more hours.”

“There’s a dissection?” Zachary asks, following Puck over to the seats. “Sounds bloodier than what we do after.”

“Well, there’s commentary, and then there’s over-analyzing every second of every performance. We’re two for two on avoiding it so far this year.” Puck slides into the chair next to Kurt on the left, across from Finn. 

“Hey, Zachary,” Finn says, gesturing with a water bottle. 

Zachary waves back. “So, impressive set, sir,” Zachary says, after he settles himself into his chair. “No kiss this year, though. Too bad.”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “No doubt Rachel would have welcomed it.”

“Not so much me,” Finn adds. “More, uh. Professional, this way.”

Zachary nods slowly. “The duet was good, though. Another original?”

Puck smirks a little. “Maybe.”

“I had nothing to do with writing this one,” Finn says. “That’s why it’s better than last year.”

“It could also have something to do with the fact that we finished it before the end of February, instead of just a few hours before performing,” Kurt points out. 

“No, it was because I wrote it last time,” Finn insists. “I call it like I see it.”

Puck shrugs. “It wasn’t exactly my best effort, either. It needed tweaking on the harmonies for sure.”

“And you were trying to write it off my words, and that’s, uh, probably pretty hard,” Finn says. “I’m not a songwriter or anything.”

“Well, from what I’ve seen anyway, you guys might be the ones to beat this year,” Zachary says. “Not like that one set, with the two different songs called ‘I’m Your Man’,” he adds, shaking his head. 

“I think they were trying for irony,” Kurt comments, “but I’m not sure that was adequately communicated.”

“Oh, good,” Zachary sighs. “I was worried it was just me.”

“Not just you. I think the Disney set really, uh, stood out, though,” Puck laughs. 

“Brittany liked it, at least,” Finn says. “It’s always nice to make Brittany happy.”

“Not the best choice for Nationals, though. I mean, if it’s not a strong Sectionals, maybe.” Puck shrugs. 

“Or some type of community performance which… we’ve never done those,” Kurt points out. “We should mention that to Schue, for the future.”

“Artie’s afraid of old people,” Finn says. “I think that’s why.”

“I was thinking more about the children’s hospital or something.”

“Aw, sick kids are so sad.” Finn frowns. “Yeah, we should have done stuff like that. Now I feel bad that we didn’t go around and sing to the sick kids.”

“At least we weren’t singing to bank patrons in an attempt to make ourselves feel relevant and ‘adding to the arts community’,” Kurt says, looking amused. 

“There’s an arts community in Lima?” Puck jokes. 

“I think they did a thing down at the mall once,” Finn says. 

“I’m devastated that we missed that opportunity,” Puck deadpans.

“Yeah, my town’s nothing _but_ arts community,” Zachary says. “So, could go either way and still not be great.”

“That has to be interesting. But I still think I’d find it strange,” Kurt admits. 

“It’s really not all that interesting once you get used to it,” Zachary assures him. “There is such thing as too much art, sir. I promise you.”

“See, that’s what I would be afraid of,” Puck nods. “Like you’d turn around and art just jumps out at you.”

“Ninja art!” Kurt laughs. 

“Yeah, that’s pretty much Scottsdale for you,” Zachary agrees. 

 

Once the room starts to clear out, Schue gathers the ten of them together, and Rachel frowns. “Where are Tina and Mike?”

“They went to use their gift card at that diner place,” Sam answers, and Rachel purses her lips but nods, satisfied enough. 

Schue proceeds to tell them all to meet at Madame Tussaud’s in an hour, and that after that he’d like everyone back at the venue early, so they can put on their costumes again and take a bunch of pictures in Central Park. Schue’s really excited about the idea, or both of them, actually, so they all agree to his times and in theory, spread out, but most of them head to the hotel to change or grab wallets and purses or whatever. 

The wax place is kind of funny; Puck never would have picked to go there, but Kurt mentions that Hannah might enjoy it once or twice, and that’s a good point; they should probably figure out what to do with her _before_ she ever visits.

Schue is dorkily excited about taking pictures in Central Park; he has them take a bunch as a group, grabs a passerby to take a picture with him in it as well, and then takes pictures of them all individually and in pairs, couples, trios, all the girls, all the guys, so many different combinations that Puck’s head is spinning. 

They barely have time to change back out of their costumes before the banquet room opens up, the room twice as crowded as all fifty groups, this time, are jammed in around larger round tables to eat dinner. Puck isn’t sure why they’re doing the showcase announcement differently this year, but they get a free meal, so that’s something, too. 

An impatient murmur starts a good five minutes before the show choir president walks up to the front of the room and grabs the microphone. “I hope everyone’s had a wonderful day, performing and watching your peers perform as well!” There’s some sporadic cheering, as well as some clapping, and then he continues. “Here to read the names of our top ten, who will compete tomorrow in our showcase, is Duncan Sheik!”

The guy has a beard, and doesn’t really look like anyone famous, which makes the excited whispers and clapping funnier, somehow. “This was a difficult job,” he starts. “And we are so impressed with the depth of talent sitting in this room. I’m sure you’re all nervous, so let’s just get started!”

Around their table, there’s some wiping of hands and Puck can just barely see Finn’s hand clutching Kurt’s. “Here we go,” someone whispers, but Puck can’t tell who.

Once Duncan Sheik starts, though, he just goes through, not waiting for any applause. “In alphabetical order: the Bethespians; Gold Company; Jefferson City Airplane; New Directions; the Oakland Ravers; the Portland Scale Blazers; Rhode Warriors; Vocal Adrenaline; Vocal Chordz; and the Waffletoots! Congratulations to all of you!”

“He said New Directions!” Rachel squeals. “He did, didn’t he? I heard him right!”

“Yeah he did!” Mercedes answers her, beaming. 

“We’re top ten!” Mike states, looking a little stunned, hands over his head. “We did it!”

Schue’s quiet for once, just smiling broadly and shifting his gaze over all of them repeatedly, hands clasped together in front of him. 

“If you are part of the top ten and performing in the Showcase tomorrow, please arrive by 7:30 in the morning. We’ll be announcing your performance order at that time.” Duncan Sheik smiles at all of them again. “Again, congratulations, and have a wonderful evening!”

Finn leans over to Kurt and says, his voice excited, “The White Ranger liked us best, dude!”

“I’m certain it was Patti LuPone,” Kurt counters, but he’s grinning. 

“Puck, back me up here,” Finn says. “White Ranger. He _chose_ us!”

“Aww, I figured it was the badass pilot. Recognized a fellow badass.”

“So, do you think the White Ranger and that Sheik guy have something going on?” Finn asks. “They were looking awfully cozy up there. And I mean, who wouldn’t want the White Ranger?”

“If we can’t find Finn tonight,” Kurt whispers to Puck, “we’ll find out where the White Ranger’s staying and look there.”

Puck laughs. “I know. And I’m pretty sure the Sheik guy was checking out the Wicked chick’s ass.”

Finn frowns at Kurt. “I’d never hook up with the White Ranger. Well, ok, maybe if he had his costume.”

“So _that’s_ why I got shoved into that T-shirt,” Puck says quietly to Kurt, but loud enough so Finn can hear. “I knew it wasn’t for the three inches of skin at the bottom.”

“Hey, that’s…” begins Finn, but then his mouth snaps closed and his eyebrows squish together in thought. “Ok, that’s possible. I admit it might be possible. Shut up.”

Puck and Kurt both just laugh, and Puck shakes his head. “I’m not wearing a full costume.”

“Maybe just a mask,” Finn mutters quietly to himself. “I bet I could find one on eBay.”

“Still no,” Puck says. “Sorry.”

“Asshole.”

Puck grins and shrugs. “You’d think you’d be used to that by now.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s why I love you,” Finn grumbles, but he grins back at Puck.

“Okay, everybody!” Schue finally speaks up, still looking stunned with a wide grin. “Since our competition isn’t over yet, let’s get ourselves back to the hotel. We have to be here at 7:30, which means we need to be through with breakfast and in the lobby by 7:10 in the morning. I highly suggest going to sleep soon after we get back to the hotel, but I know, I know.” He holds up his hands. “Just try to get _some_ rest tonight, so you can go out and win this thing tomorrow!”

“This is so exciting! Mr. Schuester is absolutely right,” Rachel babbles. “We should all take time to drink a hot cup of tea and get adequate rest so that we’ll be in top form tomorrow!”

“But not immune boosting tea,” Finn whispers. “Also, I think that stuff has panda in it and I’m pretty sure panda isn’t vegan.”

“When we get back, all the girls should have a girl party,” Brittany suggests. “It’s our last big sleepover ever. We should do all the sleepover things!”

Brittany gets an enthusiastic response from all the girls, which leads to Mike and Sam looking a little forlorn. “Guess maybe we could all get together?” Sam suggests, looking around at the guys. “Kurt, don’t you have the cord or whatever to hook Netflix up to the TV?”

“What, not sleepover things for the guys?” Artie asks. “I was really hoping somebody would do my nails.”

“I’ll let Mike take the black polish over,” Tina says with a grin. “Kurt can do a mean manicure while you boys watch a movie.”

“Thank you, Tina,” Artie says. “At least somebody’s thoughtful.”

“Send the red, too,” Finn says. “I’ll get somebody to do my toes in McKinley colors for luck.”

“We’re so spirited,” Puck says blandly as they stand up and start to leave the room at last. A few of the other groups make a point of calling congratulations over to them as they pass. 

 

“Good call on the pizza,” Puck says as Sam puts down the boxes from down the street. 

“It means I get out of a pedicure, right?” Sam laughs. “Since I got the pizza?”

“It means you only have to have _five_ toes painted,” Puck answers, shaking his head. “You even get to choose which five.”

“What happens to the other five?” Finn asks. “Is this like toe roulette?”

“The other five get to breathe.”

“That’s really creepy,” Finn says. “Seriously.”

“Got to say, I’m glad I don’t breathe through my toes,” Artie says. “That could have caused some serious issues for me.”

“You could get all kinds of crazy tattoos and piercings,” Mike jokes, opening up the top box of pizza and grabbing a slice before passing the box around. “No pain, just art.”

“I’ll take that under advisement. Would certainly make my legs more exciting than they are currently,” Artie says, nodding. 

“What are we watching?” Sam demands. “And, _dude_ , you stole the king size bed for yourself?” he adds, nodding at Puck.

Puck shrugs. “Hey, I did all the work.”

“True, true,” Sam nods. 

“Hey, hey,” Mike says as Kurt pulls up Netflix. “Don’t go past that. Let’s watch the new _Mission: Impossible_.”

“Or we could watch the _old_ one,” Sam says. “Classic cinema!”

“Tom Cruise before the crazy?” Finn asks. “I could go for that.”

“Alright,” Kurt says, and he cues up _Mission: Impossible_ before abandoning his laptop next to the TV and crawling back onto the bed next to Puck. Mike and Sam are leaning against the bed, pizza in hand, and Finn flops onto the bed on the other side of Puck.

“I still can’t believe we made top ten,” Mike gloats over the opening sequence.

“Of course we did,” Finn says, nudging Puck’s knee with his. “We’re awesome. We’re the awesomest.”

“Did we see any of the other groups, besides Vocal Adrenaline?” Sam asks.

“The Bethespians were that first group, with all the New York stuff,” Puck answers. “But I don’t remember any of the others, if we did see them.”

“My brain kind of went blank on everything between the White Ranger and us performing,” Finn confesses. 

Puck laughs and pokes Finn in the side, then slides his fingers just under the edge of Finn’s T-shirt where the hem’s ridden up a little. Finn makes a happy noise and leans against Puck. The other three are all staring at the screen, and after a minute, Kurt puts his arm across Puck’s chest, his fingers trailing just barely against Finn’s neck. 

“Think they’d even notice?” Kurt whispers very quietly.

“Think we can kick them out?” Puck responds, equally quiet. 

“How long ’til this stupid movie is over?” Finn asks, his voice also low. 

“Too long.” Kurt sighs. “Rest now?”

“Play later?” Puck finishes with a smirk.

Finn says “hmph” but snuggles against Puck, his head on Puck’s shoulder. After a few minutes, Finn’s breathing slows and he gradually becomes dead weight leaning against Puck.

Puck shakes his head slowly, and when he’s sure the other three are all engrossed in Tom Cruise’s exploits, he drops a quick kiss on the top of Finn’s head, then turns towards Kurt. “He’s out,” he says quietly. 

“I thought he would be,” Kurt admits, smiling slightly. “Don’t you want to watch the movie?”

Puck smirks and moves his lips closer to Kurt’s. “Not particularly.” Kurt leans up just enough to close the distance between them, and kissing Kurt seems like a perfectly reasonable way to spend the time while the other three watch the movie. 

“Really?” Artie’s voice interrupts. “I’d say get a room, but I suppose you already have.”

Puck very slowly raises his hand and then extends his middle finger, grinning against Kurt’s lips. 

“Yes,” Kurt says, “and you’re the one in it, so.”

“Well, okay then,” Artie says, turning back towards the screen. 

Kurt shrugs and starts kissing Puck again, this time with one hand under Puck’s T-shirt, and when they pull apart moments later, Kurt discards his own shirt. “Blue eyes?” Puck says quietly. 

“Mmmm.” Kurt leans back over, lips against Puck’s ear. “Afraid someone might see?”

“I know you aren’t,” Puck whispers back, and Kurt giggles for a second before pulling back. 

He shakes his head. “Not particularly.” 

Puck runs his hand down Kurt’s side and wraps his other arm around Kurt’s waist, pulling him close. 

“Poor Finn,” Artie mutters. 

Kurt presses his lips together, clearly trying not to laugh, and Puck bites down on his own bottom lip for the same reason. Puck mutters against Kurt’s ear. “How long until this movie’s over, again?”

 

Finn’s having the nicest dream of being kissed and touched and someone talking into his ear all soft and sexy. He kind of wishes they’d stop talking, though, because he’s going to wake up in his hotel room with Artie and that’s not nearly as nice as dreaming about being kissed by Puck and Kurt. Someone’s pulling up his T-shirt and someone’s stroking him through his jeans, maybe the same someone and maybe not, and then Finn gradually starts to understand he’s not actually dreaming, which is a lot nicer than dreaming.

“Hey,” Finn says, without opening his eyes. “Is the movie over?”

“Finally,” Kurt breathes against Finn’s ear. “Finally got the others to leave us alone.”

“Do I have to go back to my own room now?” Finn asks. He wonders if he’s actually as whiny as he sounds. Probably, since he really doesn’t want to go back to his own room. 

The hand on his jeans stills and squeezes gently, and Puck laughs. “Does it seem like we’re going to let you?”

Finn opens his eyes a little then and smiles at Puck. “No.”

“Then you’d be right,” Kurt says. “Let us get these clothes off of you? You’re overdressed, darling.”

“Yeah, too many clothes,” Finn agrees, and he shifts around a little, letting them undress him without him having to really do much more but lift up some. Once he’s naked, he grabs each of them with one arm and pulls them up against him. “Better!”

They both squirm against him, and Puck licks and bites at one nipple as Kurt closes his mouth over Finn’s, pushing his tongue inside and kissing Finn fiercely. Finn grips them both harder, making noises in Kurt’s mouth as they’re kissing. They’re both pressed against his body, both of them so hard already, and Finn really hopes somebody gives him some instructions soon so he can be in somebody, or have somebody in him, or both. 

Kurt pulls away, trailing kisses along Finn’s jaw, and then grins. “I want you to fuck me, darling, while I fuck our baby. Sound good?”

Finn sort of whines as he nods his head. “Yes. Sounds really fucking perfect.”

“Want you inside me, Finn, want your fingers stretching me out.” Kurt stretches to the side and then deposits the lube into Finn’s hand. “Want you to stretch both of us out.”

Finn wraps one arm around Kurt’s waist and just rolls the both of them over, so Kurt’s underneath him and Finn can kiss him hard, pushing him down into the mattress. Finn bites at Kurt’s lower lip, licks it, bites it again, all the while running the hand not holding the bottle of lube up and down Kurt’s body. He strokes his palm along Kurt’s thigh, traces fingertips along his cock, runs his nails against Kurt’s ribs so he wiggles and bucks underneath Finn.

Kurt giggles and grabs Finn’s hair with one hand, grinning up at him. “One at a time or both of us at the same time, Finn darling?”

“I don’t think I’m that good at, uh, multitasking?” Finn says. “So, probably one at a time.”

“Practice does make perfect,” Puck laughs, propped up on one elbow watching Finn and Kurt. 

“Yeah, probably need more practice with one before I go for two, though,” Finn says. 

“Does that give us a goal for the month?” Kurt giggles. 

“Goals are important,” Finn says, very seriously. He flips the lid open on the bottle of lube and pours some into his hand, giving a quick glance over to Puck and raising his eyebrows a little. Puck nods slightly, still grinning at them, and that makes Finn feel a lot more confident. He sets the bottle of lube down on the bed and runs that hand along the underside of Kurt’s thigh, then Kurt tips his hips up, and Puck starts murmuring in a low voice. 

“Fuck, look at you, blue eyes, just waiting for Finn’s finger to push inside you. And you, darling, look at Kurt, look at his cock, he’s so hard for us, Finn, so ready for you to push inside him and fuck him so he’ll feel it all day tomorrow. And whenever you look at us tomorrow, you’re going to think about tonight, aren’t you?”

Finn can’t make himself make real words, so he just nods as he pushes one finger slowly inside of Kurt. Kurt is so hot and tight around him, Finn’s breath catches and he looks back over to Puck. 

Puck’s hand is coiled loosely around his own cock, his eyes fixed on Finn and Kurt. “So fucking beautiful. Does that feel good, you two? Do you want more, K?” Kurt nods silently, his lips parted and his body arching towards Finn. “Fuck, Finn, look, look at him wanting you.”

Finn _is_ looking at Kurt. How could he not, when Kurt looks like that? Finn slides his finger out carefully and adds a second finger as he pushes back inside of Kurt, moving them slowly in and out, trying to do the little movements that Kurt and Puck have done to him that feel so crazy–good. Kurt wiggles a little and makes these awesome breathy noises. He whines and rolls his hips, pushing down against Finn’s fingers. 

“Your turn, baby,” Kurt gasps, looking over at Puck. Puck nods and shifts, rolling towards them and moving his hand from his own cock to the base of Kurt’s, tracing a circle around it. Finn slips his fingers out of Kurt, then picks up the lube and pours more into his hand. 

“Tell me what you want, Puck,” Finn says quietly.

Puck exhales loudly. “Want your fingers deep inside, want you fucking me with your fingers so K just slides right in.”

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Finn murmurs to himself, pressing one finger into Puck. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Yeah?” Puck pushes back against Finn’s finger. “Want you to show me.”

“Yeah,” Finn says, pushing a second finger into Puck, a little rougher than he was with Kurt. “How’s that?”

“I think you can do better,” Puck says with a grin, and Kurt giggles at the two of them. 

Finn moves his fingers in and out of Puck faster, spreading them apart a little when he’s inside, and then adds a third. “That better?”

Puck groans just a little and nods, and Kurt nods, too. “Is he ready for me, darling?”

“I don’t know,” Finn says, moving his fingers a little faster, pressing a little harder. “Are you ready for Kurt, Puck?”

“Yes,” Puck hisses, nodding.

Finn grins at Kurt. “He says he is, so I’ll go with yes.”

Kurt giggles again and rolls onto his side, picking up the lube and quickly coating himself before reaching for Finn’s cock and sliding his hands up and down it as well. “And I’m ready for you, so that all works out very nicely.”

“It’s all choreographed or whatever,” Finn agrees. He runs his hand over Kurt’s hip and leg, and back up over the curve of his ass and the silky skin on his lower back. Kurt moves into Finn’s hand and slides up over Puck, kissing Puck between his shoulder blades before running his hands down Puck’s back. Puck moves his legs and Kurt shifts forward, pushing into Puck, and then they’re both still, twin exhales echoing quietly. 

“Now, please, darling,” Kurt breathes. 

Finn says, “Yes,” and with a little bit of moving around and repositioning himself, he’s sliding inside of Kurt, his face pressed against the back of Kurt’s head. “Oh my god, Kurt.”

“Yes,” Kurt repeats softly, still not moving. “Oh, so good.”

With his hand curling around Kurt’s waist, Finn starts to move, barely sliding out of Kurt before pushing back inside him. Kurt moves forward at the same time Finn pushes in, rocking between Finn and Puck. The three of them move together, Finn running his hands over Kurt and reaching to run them over Puck, and Finn can hear himself talking into the back of Kurt’s head and against his neck, and he’s not even exactly sure what he’s saying other than “I love you.”

Kurt starts humming, and Finn moves even faster, thrusting into him harder. Kurt increases his speed as well and then pushes deep into Puck, coming with a slight shudder and a low cry. There’s a similar sound from Puck just a few seconds later, and Kurt slumps against Puck’s back. The feel and sound of them, Finn doesn’t want it to be over, but it’s only another few thrusts before he’s coming, too, his fingers digging into Kurt’s skin. He curls his body around Kurt’s, breathing heavily, his arm thrown across Kurt and his hand resting on Puck. 

“Good day?” Kurt asks in a murmur. 

“Awesome day,” Finn answers. “Really awesome.” He holds them a little tighter, because it’s their last night in New York together as the three of them, and the next time he’s with them in the city, they’ll live there and he’ll just be a guest. “I love you guys,” he whispers, not sure it’s even loud enough for them to hear.

It must be, though, because a beat later, both of them respond. “Love you, too.”

And that’s all he wants, really. It’s all he needs. Finn snuggles against Kurt and presses his palm against Puck’s stomach and that’s how he falls asleep. 

 

Puck thinks that he’s overslept at first. The room’s still dark, but the curtains are pulled closed, so that could be why, and he feels way more rested than he thinks he should. Then he realizes that if he’s overslept, so have Kurt and Finn, and the likelihood of all three of them being left to oversleep without even a phone call does seem slim. 

Puck slides out from under Kurt and Finn’s arms and slowly sits up, then checks the time on his phone. No, they haven’t overslept; he’s just awake. He considers attempting to pack, then decides that Kurt can finish it quicker without any help, and then pulls on a pair of jeans and a shirt before picking up his boots and stepping into the hall. He’ll just slip down to the Starbucks and bring back coffee for the three of them. 

When Puck gets back to the room, Kurt and Finn are both still asleep, and he sets the cups on the counter, watching the pair of them for a minute. Finn’s holding on to Kurt like Kurt’s a teddy bear or some other kind of stuffed animal, and Puck laughs to himself and shakes his head as he picks up his own coffee and takes a drink. 

“Rise and shine, you two,” he says at a normal volume, though it echoes in the quiet room. Kurt shifts slightly but doesn’t open his eyes. Finn mutters something that sounds like “mmph” and pulls Kurt closer. “Fresh coffee,” Puck adds, and this time Kurt’s eyes flutter open for a minute before closing again. 

“Why?” Kurt asks a minute later. 

“Shhh,” Finn whispers. “Sleeping.”

“Yeah, sleeping, and we have to eat breakfast and get dressed and do most of our packing in the next thirty-five minutes,” Puck agrees. 

“Dressed is bad. Naked is good.”

“Oh, god, showcase,” Kurt groans. “Why is it so early?”

Finn nuzzles his face into Kurt’s hair. “We sing so awesome.”

“Yeah, but we don’t want to sing naked.” Puck grins. “Come on, I even got you a muffin, dude.”

“Mmm, ok, I can wake up for muffin,” Finn says, and finally opens his eyes and loosens his hold on Kurt. “Morning.”

“Morning,” Kurt replies, sounding amused, and Kurt stretches before starting to sit up. “Anything for me, baby?”

“Whoopie pies. Breakfast of champions,” Puck grins. 

“We’re all gonna be champions,” Finn says. He runs his hands down Kurt’s sides and then sits up himself. “Muffin?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Puck laughs, crossing the room and sitting down on the bed with the bags from Starbucks. “Good morning.”

Finn tips his head to the side and makes his thinking face. “You first, and then muffin,” he says, reaching out for Puck. 

“I’m not breakfast!” Puck retorts, but he leans towards Finn as he speaks, and Finn gets him by the front of his shirt, pulling him forward until he’s straddling Finn’s lap.

“Who says you’re not?” Finn asks. “You taste good. You’re a good breakfast.” He kisses the side of Puck’s neck.

“Me,” Puck says. “I say I’m not.”

Kurt just laughs. “It’s two against one, though.” Kurt’s hand runs up Puck’s back. “Too bad he got dressed, isn’t it?” Kurt says to Finn. 

“Best part about clothes is that they’re removable,” Finn says. “We do have thirty-five _whole minutes_.”

Puck shakes his head. “But if you faint on stage, none of us are going to manage to catch you,” he says, brushing his lips against Finn’s as he finishes the sentence. Finn’s tongue darts and and touches Puck’s lips, then Finn pulls Puck against him harder, mouths crashing together. 

“That is true,” Kurt muses, his hand still on Puck’s back. “You should eat, darling. We all should.”

“See?” Puck pulls back and grins. “I’m the smart one.”

“No, you’re the delicious one,” Finn grumbles. “Fine. Muffin.”

“Just for the record, that is _not_ ever going to be an acceptable nickname.”

Kurt giggles. “No, I don’t think it would be.”

Finn rolls his eyes. “Dude, can I _have_ my muffin?”

“Oh, sure,” Puck grins and reaches behind him, grabbing the muffin and handing it to Finn, then handing Kurt his whoopie pies. “One fresh muffin.”

“Love you best!” Finn announces before taking a bite of his muffin.

“Yeah, yeah,” Puck laughs. “I’m always the best when I bring food and coffee.”

“Of course you are,” Kurt agrees, leaning his head on Puck’s shoulder. “Does that make you the caveman bringing back the food for us?”

“Something like that.” Puck wrinkles his nose. “I think we should skip studying whatever that is. Prehistory?”

“Coffee?” Finn asks, his mouth full of muffin. “Can’t get it. Puck lap.”

“Yes, it’d be a hardship to move,” Kurt says wryly, but he gets up and brings the coffee over. 

“As long as that doesn’t make me some kind of disease.”

“Chronic Puck lap,” Finn says, shaking his head. “Very sad. Read about it on WebMD.”

“Now we know we can’t trust it, then,” Kurt laughs. “So. Are we going to win?”

“And that’s why Puck’s the smart one,” Finn snorts. “’Cause he wouldn’t ask a dumb question like that.” He leans forward to kiss Kurt. “Of course we’re gonna win. We’re gonna kick nine teams’ worth of asses today.”

“As long as there’s no kissing of other teams,” Kurt quips. 

“Damn, that was totally my strategy,” Finn says. “Oh well, guess we’re gonna lose. Does that mean we can get Puck naked and go back to bed?”

Puck grins. “No, it means we have to keep a close eye on you today.”

“So I don’t wander off and get lost?”

“So no one else tries to kiss you. That’s our job.” Puck shrugs matter of factly. 

“I’m definitely in danger of, uh. Which one’s the one that’s blush and which one’s the one that’s like, ninja–like?” Finn asks.

“Rogue kissing?” Kurt suggests. 

“Yeah, definitely in danger of rogue kissing,” Finn says. “Those show choir people can’t keep their hands off me.”

“Clearly,” Puck agrees, nodding. 

There’s a loud knock on the door right then. “Rise and shine!” Schue’s voice calls through the door. “Making sure everyone’s awake! It’s a great day to win a trophy!”

Finn opens his mouth to shout back an answer, but Puck leans forward and covers Finn’s lips with his own while Kurt answers. “We’re up, Mr. Schue!”

“Great! See you downstairs!” Schue calls through the door again, and Puck can hear him walk down the hall after another few seconds pass. 

When Puck pulls away, Finn says, “Oops.”

Puck laughs. “You just wanted more kisses.”

“I always want more kisses,” Finn agrees. “Not from nine other show choirs, though. Just you two.”

“Good,” Kurt says firmly, and then stands up. “And we really should go shower and then eat. Puck said so, and he’s the smart one.”

“Yeah, and you said so, and you’re the bossofme,” Finn sighs. “Ok, no more Puck lap.”  
He jostles his legs under Puck and bounces him around. 

Puck laughs and slides off Finn’s lap with a soft kiss. “No more for now,” he agrees.

“Ok, then,” Finn says. “Showers. Clothes. Food. Ass–kicking.”

 

“Attention!” The national president thumps his finger against the microphone, which sounds even worse than usual when it’s 7:30 in the morning and they’re all waiting to hear about what order they’re performing in. “I have here the performance order for today’s showcase, the final stage of competition for the 2012 National title!” There’s a few scattered cheers but most of them just yawn. “Without further delay, the teams will compete in the following order.”

The Bethespians apparently have some kind of luck, because they’re going first again, and then the guy reads through the list. Once they get to number eight (Rhode Warriors), Puck starts to wonder if they might actually get to close the competition, and sure enough, the list concludes with “Number nine, Waffletoots, and to finish us off in the tenth slot, New Directions!”

Finn’s arm tightens across Puck’s shoulders. “We get to go last! This is awesome!”

Puck nods, grinning. “And we have plenty of time beforehand, too.”

“This is great, guys!” Schue says over the noise in the room. “Let’s get to our green room!”

They watch the other groups on the monitor as they finish changing and settle around the green room. The second group is the Portland Scale Blazers, and in the middle of their set, one of the girls does some kind of weird leap and the strap on her dress just snaps, leaving the front flapping forward.

“Holy shit,” Artie whispers, sounding absolutely shocked. “I see titty.”

“It’s just like the Superbowl,” Finn says. “It’s a wardrobe malfunction.”

“Must be one of those dresses with the built-in bra,” Tina winces. “Poor thing.”

“She’s still singing!” Sam says, grinning. “Do they get extra points for that?”

“It’s so bouncy,” Brittany says, transfixed. “Just like Tigger.”

“Fun fun fun!” Mike laughs. “And it’s the only one.”

“Only sexy,” Sam corrects.

“Tigger _is_ sexy,” Brittany says, shaking her head at him like he’s crazy. “That’s why they say that thing, that someone’s like a Tigger in the sack.”

“Britt, sweetie,” Quinn says. “I think that’s—”

“That’s right, Britt-Britt,” Santana interrupts Quinn. “You’re a total Tigger.”

“Because Tiggers do everything best,” Brittany says, smiling at Santana and linking their pinkies together. “You’re a total Tigger, too.”

“Oh, too bad, it’s over now,” Artie says. “I think that’s the best set I’ve ever seen. Or half a set, anyway.”

“I’m just glad that won’t be happening to any of us,” Rachel says primly, and she smooths her dress down unnecessarily. 

The next group, Gold Company, is from somewhere in the south, and Mike laughs during their first song. “Remember how we said Sam’s lack of enunciation was what the whole group would sound like if we were all in the south? I think this group is proof!”

“I bet they have really good manners, though,” Finn says. “And their costumes don’t suck. A lot of gold, though.”

“They are doing passably well,” Rachel concedes. “Of the three sets we’ve seen so far, I feel that theirs is the best.”

There’s nothing new about Vocal Adrenaline’s performance, and Puck tries to make himself pay attention to the groups, but even then they start to blur together. When the eighth group, Rhode Warriors, starts, and someone says that they saw them the day before, Schue turns off the monitor and looks at all of them. 

“This? This is it,” he says simply, and then nods at Finn. 

“So,” Finn begins. “So, once upon a time, there was this scraggedly little group of misfits and losers that nobody liked and who mostly didn’t even like themselves. They got slushied, like, all the time. I know, because I threw a couple of those.” He shrugs apologetically before continuing, “But then something really awesome happened, and that group of misfits all found each other, and they even found people who didn’t realize they were misfits yet. All of us, we came together like a big family, and now we’re doing awesome things together. We’re about to go out there and win Nationals. And you know what? We might still be misfits, but not a single one of us is a Lima loser.” He puts his arms out and everybody clusters together into a group hug.

“Let’s show everybody how to really end a show,” Santana says after a long minute, and as they all pull back, one of the stagehands comes to lead them to the wings. None of them are watching the group performing, instead standing in small clusters, some people bouncing in place. 

Finn leans over like he’s going to whisper something to Puck, but instead, his lips graze Puck’s ear. “For luck,” he says. Before Puck can say anything, Finn turns and does what looks like the same thing to Kurt, then he throws one arm over each of their shoulders and pulls them in for a quick hug. “Love you guys.”

Puck grins and exchanges a glance with Kurt before they respond, more quietly, “Love you too.” Then the Waffletoots are finishing, and New Directions heads back onto the stage, one last time. 

‘This Is War’ goes perfectly, Finn discards his jacket, and they stand in the wings, all the guys’ jackets off, to watch the duet. They’re both spot-on, and after the chorus, Finn looks over his shoulder a little, into the wings where Puck and Kurt are standing. He raises his eyebrows just a fraction, and they both grin back, nodding slightly. Finn absolutely nails the choreography, which means Mike’ll be happy, too, and then finishes strong as the music shifts into ‘Somebody Told Me’. 

Puck doesn’t have much of a chance to see how they are all doing while he’s busy dancing himself, especially since every time he’s mastered one step or whatever, Kurt just kept adding more. He knows the two of them do well, though, and when the music comes to a stop, everyone’s genuinely grinning. They exit back into the wings and stay there to listen as the president speaks again. 

“The judges will be deliberating for the next hour or so. Our showcase groups are going to join us for lunch shortly and we hope you’ll all join us for dessert and the presentation of trophies at 12:20!”

The stagehands herd them back to the green room, and then Mr. Schue herds them towards the lunch buffet, and once they’re all seated, the conversation turns back to Lima, and the evening’s school board meeting. They’re going to make quite an entrance, Puck figures, no matter how big their trophy. 

“I’m gonna have a stroke waiting for them to announce,” Finn says. “And then I’ll be all, like, half–limp at the school board meeting, arm dragging and my leg all over the place, and you’ll be all, yeah. Stroke, because of inequality.”

The other forty teams get let into the room for cookies and brownies, and then the judges file into the room. The woman that almost looks like Shelby is talking this time, which makes Kurt bounce in his seat slightly. 

“We’re so excited to announce your top three show choirs for the year. Please, feel free to clap and cheer, and we’d like your entire group to come forward.” She pauses and smiles, and Puck tilts his head slightly, wondering why else she looks familiar. “In third place, from Bethesda, Maryland, The Bethespians!”

The all–New York set people scream and run towards her, hugging all the judges and claiming a large-ish trophy that makes Puck wonder how many carry-on allotments the first place trophy uses. It takes about five minutes for a few pictures and more cheering and hugs before the Bethespians take their seats and the woman—Idina, Kurt reminds him—can continue. 

“Well done, Bethespians! And now, the 2012 Second Place Show Choir, from Georgia, Gold Company!” Apparently the judges didn’t mind the southern accents, and there’s another flurry of hugs and cheers and photographs. Puck looks around the room and notices both Vocal Adrenaline and Rhode Warriors look smug. The Portland Scale Blazers just look vaguely mortified, still, and the rest of them look nervous. 

“It’s such an honor to judge this competition,” Idina says, “and I know my fellow judges feel the same way. Narrowing it down to the top ten yesterday was difficult; choosing just one winning group was far harder. We looked not only for excellence in singing, but also in choreography, in preparation, in teamwork, and for balance in the sets. In the end, one group stood out to us, and it is my honor to announce your 2012 National Show Choir Champions.” She stops and takes a deep breath, smiling at all of them. “New Directions!”

Finn does double victory fists. “Yes! Told you guys! All the asses! We kicked ’em!”

Rachel squeals, and the rest of them start jabbering and standing slowly, while Schue just stands in place, hands together over his head. 

“Well, come on up!” Idina urges them, and there’s some laughter around the room. 

Finn throws one arm across Puck’s shoulders and one across Kurt’s. “You heard the lady. Let’s get up there!” He steers the two of them in Idina’s direction, and the rest of the club follows behind them. 

“You get to meet the White Ranger, dude,” Puck says under his breath when they’re halfway to the stage, and on the other side of Finn, he can tell that the reality of _meeting Patti LuPone_ has already hit Kurt. 

“Yeah, but you already told me I’m not allowed to kiss anybody else here,” Finn whispers back. “Are you saying it’s ok to kiss the White Ranger? Or are you just taunting me now?”

“Taunting,” Puck and Kurt say together. 

“Then you owe me _epic_ kisses later,” Finn grumbles. “White Ranger–worthy kisses.”

“As many as you want,” Kurt promises as they finally reach the front of the room, and then all twelve of them are herded into pictures with the trophy, with the judges, with the trophy and the judges, and every other possible combination. After that, they slowly make a line and work their way down the line of judges, again with more pictures. 

Kurt gushes over Patti LuPone, as does Rachel, Finn shakes the White Ranger’s hand   
vigorously, muttering something about being a huge fan since he was five or six, and Puck tells the pilot that he should consider getting a keychain that says ‘badass’ on it, because he totally is. 

It doesn’t hit him until he’s shaking Idina’s hand why she looks so familiar, apart from the whole looking like Shelby thing. “You’re from _RENT_!” he blurts, then shakes his head. “Sorry!”

“No, that’s quite all right,” she says with a smile. “And yes, I was in _RENT_.”

“They only mentioned _Wicked_ in the introductions, so I didn’t make the connection.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Puck says sincerely, and then he’s at the end of the line, and they’re all queued up for a final picture, this one with all three of the top teams and their trophies, their coaches, and the judges all. 

The rest of the room has slowly emptied out by the time the photographs are taken and the judges take their leave, and the twelve of them cluster around the really large trophy and Mr. Schue. Puck does wonder how they’re going to get the damn thing through airport security and then home, but decides that is one travel detail that he’s happy to leave for Mr. Schue. 

“You guys.” Schue rubs his hand across his face and shakes his head once. “I am just so, so proud of you, all of you. Congratulations. _You_ earned this.”

“You got us here,” Finn says, and he grabs Mr. Schue in a bear hug. One by one, the rest of them join in, the trophy still upright behind Mr. Schue as all thirteen of them fall into a messy hug.


End file.
